


The Way We Are

by lemondrops154



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemondrops154/pseuds/lemondrops154
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco return to Hogwarts for their Eight Year, and Harry just can't seem to control himself around the blonde.. Mature Sexual Content.. in later chapters anyway. Slashy goodness! Also, gratuitous use of curse words.. umm, the non-magical variety :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Slashy Slashy goodness! Also, gratuitous use of curse words... umm, the non-magical variety :)

 

Ron stomped over to where Harry was sitting trying to put his latest altercation with Malfoy out of his head and get on with his Transfigurations essay. Ron slammed his book bag on the table. "Harry, what the hell are you doing?"

Harry squirmed. "What do you mean?"

Ron growled at him. "You know exactly what I mean! First it was all, he's a bloke… Then it was all, he's Malfoy... Just snog him and get it out of your system already!"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Ron! I can't believe you're saying that!"

"Yeah, well... If it's really a phase like you keep insisting, then just go for it and get it over with... I mean, come on mate! This is your third week in detention... And we've only been here a couple of months!"

Harry wrinkled his brow and cocked his head, wondering what was going on.

Ron huffed and dropped into the couch opposite Harry. "Hermione's doing her nut over this whole business you know."

Harry grinned. That explained a lot. 'Mione had probably been giving Ron an earful.

Ron growled again. "Seriously Harry. I mean it. You need to sort this out so my love life can get back on track. Hermione's either too busy studying or too busy worrying to want to fool around. And that's just not on, mate."

Harry swallowed his snickers and nodded.

Whatever might have been said about Malfoy's cowardice, it took balls to come back to the school he had helped destroy. Sheer bravado in the face of that much hatred was something Harry was very familiar with. It had been what defined his life for eleven long years before the Wizarding world had arrived like his salvation. And having watched Malfoy's very correct posture and head held high attitude throughout his family's trial and the ensuing chaos, Harry couldn't help the pangs of empathy he had felt for the boy. Looking at Malfoy's public persona, no one would guess he was the boy haunted by nightmares. Harry didn't think anyone but he had seen that side of Malfoy... And probably he wouldn't be the sole exception had Malfoy realized that Harry was in the habit of following him around on his nightly circuits of the castle.

The pilgrimage always touched all the different sections of the castle that still gave Harry nightmares... The Room of Requirement... the Astronomy Tower... the Great Hall... And it always ended in the Owlery... Harry didn't really know why...

It was in the Owlery that Malfoy would spend hours starring out at the inky sky night after night. And it was here he sometimes fell asleep to be startled awake by nightmares, a half finished scream caught in his throat.

The first time it had happened, Harry had nearly had a heart attack.

That said, Harry found himself in the unique position of being fascinated by the blonde rather than loathing him... as most people were prone to assume.

The problem actually arose when Harry first came face-to-face with this new Malfoy. He really didn't know how to react to the quiet, neutral, almost submissive public persona that Malfoy had adopted. It wasn't real. There was nothing of the real passion that had driven Malfoy so much of his life. It was just all ... wrong.

It was yet another change in a world of change, and at that first Hogwarts meeting after the dust had settled, Harry just hadn't been able to take it. For some reason, he was desperate for this one thing to have been the same. That if this one thing had remained the same, then all the rest of the changes wouldn't matter. He'd snapped a little bit.

Okay... A lot. He'd lashed out, unprovoked, at an unsuspecting Malfoy. Right there in the Great Hall, without paying heed to where they were ... or even how his actions would be construed by the rest of the population of Hogwarts really. He'd just wanted to feel normal.

It had definitely felt normal to earn that first week of detention. He'd winced at the look of disappointment on McGonagall's face, but he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. Flexing his knuckles as they stiffened from the battering they'd taken in their attempt to knock out some of Malfoy's teeth... watching Malfoy dab gingerly at his bleeding lip as Parkinson fussed with a handkerchief... Half listening to Hermione hiss furiously at him for being a thoughtless berk... Harry had felt the Earth stabilize below his feet for the first time since that fateful day at Hogwarts.

That first day back had kind of set the pattern for things.

Harry would continue to hassle a neutral Malfoy at every opportunity that presented itself. And it was really quite baffling for the rest of the school to watch. Harry didn't seem to have a problem with any of the other Slytherins – not even the ones who had done far worse during the war. In fact, he was even starting to make quite good friends with some of them. Blaise Zabini and he could be seen with their heads bent together over a DADA text around the castle quite often these days, and people were getting used to the sight of Harry sitting beside a hunkering Goyle in the library.

It was just Malfoy he seemed to have a problem with. Their friends had taken to subtle maneuvering in order to try and keep the peace... Especially given that the Eighth Years were sharing the same dorms rather than intruding on the younger years. Quick thinking and judicious placement so that the two were never close enough to row had so far prevented them from coming to blows in the Common Room at least. The entire grade could not have been more grateful that McGonagall had decided to allow them two people to a room, in deference to their being young adults, rather than traditional dorms. No one quite wanted to imagine what exactly would have happened if someone had tried to get Harry and Malfoy to room together.

And yet Malfoy had continued to infuriate Harry by refusing to react. It was something Harry had taken as a personal challenge. Ron's love life aside, the way he and Malfoy had been going at it since the beginning of their eighth year at Hogwarts, something had to give.

Little did he realize that it was going to happen as soon as the very next day.

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy suddenly brought both his forearms crashing down on Harry's, breaking his hold on his collar. He then grabbed the front of Harry's robe and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Fuck you! Why the fuck won't you leave me the fuck alone?! What the fuck to do want from me, Potter?!"

Harry grinned. "This!" He grabbed the front of Malfoy's robes in return and yanked him forward, hissing right in his face. "Fight back, Malfoy."

Malfoy blinked and tried to retreat, but Harry wouldn't let him, tightening his hold even more. Suddenly he smirked and spat in Malfoy's face. "Coward."

And there it was. The reaction he'd been waiting for all these months.

The grey eyes lit like storm clouds in a tempest, and in the next instance, a fist connected with Harry's nose. Listening to the satisfying crunch of bone, Harry sucked in a breath through his mouth, trying to think through the pain and shoved back. This was what he'd wanted. It was time to give as good as he got.

 

* * *

 

 

Some ten minutes later, Harry and Malfoy sat facing each other, on opposite sides of the hallway, panting as each tried to catch his breath.

Harry mopped at his dripping nose with the back of his hand, wincing as the move jarred his shoulder. He'd wrenched it rather badly.

Malfoy pressed a handkerchief to a cut on his eyebrow, trying to stem the flow of blood dripping into his eye.

That had almost been cathartic. Brief, but fierce and vicious.

"Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Harry grinned. "dothing dow. I just couldn't stand your 'I'm so polite I don't feel a dhing facade' ... Made me want to put a fist through your teeth every dime I saw id."

"You're fucked in the head, you know that?"

Harry snorted, and then winced immediately after. Not the brightest idea with a broken nose.

Malfoy pulled out his wand. " _Episkey_."

Harry squealed as his nose cartilage realigned and snapped into place. "Fuck! What the hell, Malfoy?"

"You may be content to spend the rest of your life in detention, but I am not going to get punished just because Wonder Boy Potter has a masochistic streak."

Harry snorted again, wriggling his nose. It was still tender, but everything seemed to be in its right place. Harry didn't think he'd ever allow anyone other than Hermione to perform healing spells on him outside of the hospital wing, but Malfoy appeared to have done a decent job with a minimum of fanfare. Who knew?

"Want me to heal yours?"

"Yeah right I'm letting you anywhere near me with a wand."

"Unless you want to go to Madam Pomfrey, it might scar you know." Harry gestured to his own forehead. "With a little work, I think we could even make them match."

He grinned at the horror twisting Malfoy's features and pulled out his wand.

"Don't you dare! I'll get Pansy to take care of it."

Harry shrugged his good shoulder and put away his wand again. "Suit yourself." He climbed to his feet, joints popping a bit, then held out a hand to help Malfoy off the floor.

Malfoy stared at the hand and then at Harry's perfectly agreeable expression. "Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Harry shrugged again and turned away. He grinned over his shoulder as Malfoy hauled himself to his feet. "See you around, Malfoy."

 

* * *

 

 

“I just don’t understand him, Pansy! He’s fucked in the head!”

Pansy hummed soothingly as she dabbed aloe on the irritated skin of Draco’s forehead. “Of course he is, darling. We all knew that.”

“I mean it this time, Pans. He’s a blithering, fucking _cunt_ to me all year.. He roughs me up at every opportunity he gets.. He made me _bleed_ today.. And then he comes over all friendly and can I help you up and see you around.. I mean, what. The. Fuck?”

Pansy couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

Draco’s head snapped around. “Don’t you fucking start with me, Pans. I have enough insanity in my life at the moment.”

“It would make sense though.. If you really think about it.”

“Merlin’s shriveled balls, Pans! How the fuck would _that_ make sense? In _what_ universe would that make sense?!”

“He’s a hormonal teenage boy..” Draco glared. “Granted he’s fucked in the head.. But seriously, Draco. If he really did have a crush on you, how do you think that conversation would have gone? After all the shit we’ve pulled over the years, he can hardly just walk up to you and ask you out. He probably doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

“I cannot believe I’m having this conversation! Where the fuck did this come from anyway? Shit, Pans. I’m starting to think Potter might not be the only person fucked in the head.”

Pansy sprawled across Blaise’s bed, her head and feet hanging off the sides, hair brushing across the floor. “Hmmph. Yeah well .. whatever. Think Blaise has any new mags under here? I’m finished with all the old ones.”

Draco snorted as he stripped out of his dirty and bloodied robes. “I’d ask you to stay out of Blaise’s porn collection, but it’s a lost cause.”

Pansy flashed him an upside down grin before going back to her rummaging. “All the crap they have for women has all the lovey dovey shit all over it. None of this good hardcore stuff.”

“Where is the traitor anyway?”

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!! YOU DID **_NOT_**..!!!”

Draco and Pansy glanced at each other before both of them scrambled for the bedroom door. A door that nearly beaned them as it swung open, admitted Blaise and Goyle, and then slammed shut again in quick succession.

“You do _not_ want to go out there.” Blaise panted while Goyle nodded enthusiastically.

Pansy pouted. “Why the hell not? It sounds like it could be fun.”

Blaise just shook his head. “Seriously. Potter just got in, all bloodied and roughed up and grinning like a loon to boot. Granger is doing her _nut,_ and _no one_ wants to be caught in the cross fire.”

Pansy bounced and clapped her hands. “Is she doing her shrill shrew impression? Oh fun! Come on Blaise, lemme through. I wanna see this!”

Blaise shook his head again. “She’s way beyond that. She’s gone subsonic. Potter may have no eardrums left once she’s done with him.”

Draco snorted and headed back to his armoire. Considering they could hear her four stories up from the Common Room.. through a solid wood, closed door.. He didn’t doubt it for a second.

“Shit!”

Draco turned around to see Blaise holding up his bloodied robes. “You’re the one he fucked up!”

Draco raised his brows. “Isn’t it always?”

Blaise just shook his head and dropped the robes again. “You’d think. But Potter’s refusing to admit to anything at all. He keeps saying ‘he fell’. I think that’s making Granger more pissed off than anything else.”

As if on cue, the shrill voice sounded through the corridors again. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN _SORRY_!!!”

Goyle squirmed where he was perched on Draco’s bed. Blaise winced. Draco merely raised an eyebrow.

Pansy giggled. “She’s got a pair of lungs on her, huh?”

“I’ve said it once. I’ve said it a million times. Fucked. In. The. Head.”

Pansy flounced over to Blaise’s bed and resumed her rummaging. “Oh shut it Draco. They make life interesting. I mean, can you imagine? We’re not in the dungeons, and there’s so few of us this year. Without some drama it would be total dullsville around here.”

Blaise mimicked Pansy’s pose. “True that. But sometimes I wish the drama wasn’t quite so retarded. Potter’s a nice enough bloke.” Pansy and Draco both snorted, and Blaise grinned. “No he is. Have a civil conversation with the guy, and he’s so normal it’s frightening. But for some reason Draco’s like this one little corner of madness that he’s absolutely refusing to budge on. Makes you wonder.”

“I think he has a crush on Draco.”

Draco groaned. “Pans! Not that fucking lunatic theory again. I don’t even know where you got the idea to begin with.”

Pansy ignored him and looked between Blaise and Goyle. “Think about it. It makes perfect sense.” She counted off on her fingers. “One. Draco’s hot. He knows it, but that doesn’t make him any less hot. Two. Potter’s been obsessed with him for over seven years now.”

“Pans. He hates my guts. I don’t think that’s the kind of obsession that leads to a crush for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey.. obsession is obsession. And you know what they say – there’s a fine line between love and hate.” Draco opened his mouth to protest but Pansy cut him off, holding up a third finger. “Three. If Potter is lusting after Draco – I refer you to point number one – then what is he supposed to do about it? They’ve never had a normal relationship. He can’t just ask him out like a normal person.” Pansy grinned. “And let’s face it. Regardless of what Blaise might think, Potter’s not exactly _normal_ either, so who knows what he acts like when he has a crush on someone.”

Draco groaned and buried his face in a pillow. He didn’t know why he was bothering to protest even. When Pansy got an idea stuck in her head, she was like a dog with a bone, refusing to leave well enough alone. Now that the idea of a Potter lusting after him had taken her fancy, there was no talking her out of it.

Blaise snickered. “You know, Draco, Pans might be onto something here.”

Draco didn’t bother removing his face from the pillow. “Wipe that shit eating grin off your face before I do it for you.”

Blaise snickered again.

 

* * *

 

It might have been that he’d managed to mess himself up yet again that had set Hermione off. He knew she worried that all his ‘extracurricular’ activities over the years would finally start to take their toll.

Or it might have been the fact that he refused to admit that he’d been in a fight when his state at the time clearly said otherwise. Hermione hated to be lied to. Especially as blatantly as that.

Or it might have been the fact that he hadn’t shown a shred of remorse. In fact, he’d been downright cheerful.

Harry ruefully admittedly that it was probably a combination of all three. Harry winced as he toweled his hair dry. His ears were still ringing from the shouting at ‘Mione had given him earlier. He idly wondered how long it would take for them to stop ringing.

The bedroom door opened. Ron sauntered in, kicking the door shut behind him, and flopped down on his bed.

“You’ve really done it this time, mate. She’s really upset. It took me a whole hour to calm her down. And I don’t think she’s there yet, she’s just holding it in better.”

Harry winced. “I know. I’ll make it up to her. Now’s not the time though. I don’t think she really wants to see me right this minute.”

“You got that right! What the hell happened anyway? You had more blood on you than you had cuts, _and_ you managed to fuck up your bad shoulder again.”

Harry studied Ron for a moment, then shrugged. “Malfoy.”

Ron groaned. “Damn it, Harry. Please tell me he’s not lying bleeding to death in some corridor somewhere.”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t do that!” Ron gave him a skeptical look, and Harry blushed a little. “Okay, so I might beat the ass to within an inch of his life, but I’d make sure he was taken care of properly afterwards!”

Ron shook his head. “Harry, mate, you have any idea how fucked up that sounds?”

Harry snorted and tossed his towel at the laundry hamper. “Story of my life. But yeah..”

“So.. What happened with Malfoy then?”

Harry grinned as he pulled on his socks and sat cross-legged on his bed, facing Ron. “He fought back, Ron. It was brilliant!” Ron snorted. “No, really. This whole time he’s been hiding behind that holier-than-thou blank shit faced mask thing he does. Pissed the fuck out of me. But not today.. We got into it proper.” Harry’s grin stretched bigger. “Broke my nose even!”

Ron jackknifed into a sitting position. “Your nose! Please tell me you didn’t try to fix it yourself!”

Harry laughed. “Relax. Malfoy fixed it.” Ron’s jaw dropped, and Harry laughed again. “He didn’t really give me a choice about it. Just pulled out his wand and fixed it. Said he didn’t want to end up in detention just 'cause I was an ass.”

Ron flopped back on to his pillows. “I guess that makes sense. In a weird twisted kind of way.. Right. So you beat up Malfoy. He breaks your nose. And this is a good thing because...”

“He’s finally acting normal again! Malfoy not reacting to being taunted was just all wrong. It didn’t fit. Besides, no one is that composed _all_ of the time. His saint-act was getting old.”

“Right. Malfoy’s back to being the snarky git he’s always been. Again: This is a good thing because...”

“Because we can probably have a conversation now without me wanting to bash his teeth in, that’s why.”

Ron sighed. “Not that I didn’t already know this or anything, but just thought I’d let you know Harry.. You’re a bit mental, mate.”

Harry grinned, flipped him off and went back to rummaging for his Charms essay due the next day. He didn’t care what anyone said. Today had been a good day.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry smiled and dumped his school bag on the floor as he flopped down into the seat next to Goyle and sprawled across the library table dramatically, his arms spread eagle, one cheek mushed into the table, and peered up at Goyle through his bangs. “Hey, Greg. How’s it hanging?”

Goyle grinned at the drama and shrugged. Harry and Pansy were the only two people in Hogwarts who called him by his given name. Everyone else just called him Goyle, and in many ways, he preferred it that way.

Harry jumped up and then bounced in his seat a couple of times. “Excellent! Shall we carry on with Charms today then?”

Harry spread out his things around him and shifted closer to Goyle so they could look at each other’s parchments as they worked. He found the big Slytherin’s presence soothing. The other students in the school still tended to give him a wide berth, his reputation as a brute having preceded him. It was the reason Harry had first flopped down next to him. He had wanted everyone to leave him the fuck alone, just for a little while, and sitting at Goyle’s sparsely populated table in the library had seemed the only way to achieve that. Goyle hadn’t objected. In fact, he hadn’t said anything at all. Just quietly continued to struggle with his work and let Harry carry on as he pleased.

Having finally found a corner of Hogwarts where he was just allowed to be, Harry came back the next day. And the next. And the one after that.

It was Harry in fact who had first initiated conversation, making a suggestion for Herbology when he’d seen Goyle struggling. Goyle’s grateful, albeit brief, smile had encouraged him to continue to offer his two cents whenever he thought necessary. Now, they tended to sit elbow to elbow at the table so that they could read each other’s pages over the other’s shoulder as they worked, pausing to consult when something was confusing or new.

The arrangement was probably skewed in Goyle’s favor, but Harry didn’t mind.

He still remembered the quiet awe in Goyle’s eyes when he’d done well in Transfiguration for the first time that year. It was the least he could do in exchange for the kind of peace Goyle’s unassuming company gave him.

He was always more open and exuberant when spending time with Goyle. He reckoned his over the top behavior was to compensate for Goyle’s quiet demeanor, but Hermione theorized that it was probably because Goyle didn’t judge him at all. Not for any of his strangeness or awkwardness or the awe he still felt towards things in the magical world that were commonplace for others. She said it allowed Harry to relive his childhood and to finally be the excited little boy who had first come to the Wizarding World without having to shoulder the burden of saving it at the same time.

Harry had a theory too. That he really needed to find a way to break Hermione of the habit of worrying about him all the time. She’d gotten into the habit of worrying constantly and keeping an eye on his “psychological wellbeing” over the last few years – and Harry was the first to admit that she had had just cause. But the habit had become so ingrained that she couldn’t seem to stop, not even when there was no immediate imminent threat loaming over Harry.

“Heard you messed up Draco.”

It was said without inquiry or accusation, merely a stating of facts. Harry winced a little regardless. So maybe he’d given Hermione _some_ cause to worry about his mental health – the situation with Malfoy a case in point. He shook his head and dismissed that train of thought. When he gave himself half a chance, he could always come up with dozens of reasons why he had reason to feel guilty because of his friendship with Hermione. And he always found himself in a funk that only Hermione could cure with one of her indignant lectures about idiocy and did-he-think-she-was-so-mindless-as-to-blindly-follow-along and where-did-he-get-off-taking-all-the-credit... But not today. He was in too good a mood to let it be spoilt by thoughts of an impending Hermione breakdown.

He beamed up at Goyle, who had waited patiently to allow Harry to puzzle through whatever he was thinking so he could start the conversation whenever he was ready.

That was another thing that Harry loved about Goyle. That he wouldn’t rush you just because he wanted answers or even conversation. His grinned widened as he thought about that. Yes, he did. He did in fact love Gregory Goyle, and he could say it without wincing to himself, though Ron would probably choke when he found out. In fact, Harry would tell him just to see him sputtering.

“Yeah. We got into it earlier... But it was good, cause he fought back this time.”

“Pansy thinks you have a crush on him.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Then he snickered. “Good.”

Goyle looked at him and blinked slowly. “Good?”

Harry smiled crookedly, “Yeah. Good. Malfoy and I have a lot of issues... and for the first time, today I felt like maybe we can work through some of them at least. And that’s just one of the possibilities. If things work out, I wouldn’t mind finding out if there’s anything there.”

Goyle thought for a second, then nodded as if he’d settled something with himself and turned to their heretofore neglected essays.

“Hey, Greg?”

Goyle looked up.

“You know I love you, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

Goyle’s eyes widened.

He was just starting to wonder if Harry had been drinking when he laughed and gave him a lopsided grin. “Not like that. There will be no propositioning of the boyfriend variety. But, yeah... I’m glad we became friends.” Shadows crowded his eyes. “I’m glad Malfoy saved you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t save Crabbe.”

Goyle looked at him for a minute then carefully placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It wasn’t really your fault you know.” Harry’s grateful smile had him blinking away stinging in his eyes. Considering why he and Vince had been in the Room of Requirement to begin with, he wondered at Harry’s ability to ignore all the good he had done and focus on all the things he considered his personal failures. “I’m glad we’re friends too.”

The shadows retreated as Harry’s grin turned mischievous. “You mind if I go around announcing that to the world?”

There was that stinging again. He was feeling the same awe he felt the first time Harry Potter decided to sit at his empty table, the first time he’d offered advice for his homework, without judgment and without an expectation of anything in return, the first time Harry had praised his work, the first time Harry had turned to him in frustration when they were working and then listened to his explanation patiently.

Him. Harry had actually listened and then scooted closer so he could peer at his parchment as he worked. Goyle had felt a peculiar kind of pride at being in the rather unexpected situation of having someone ask him for explanations regarding academics, or having someone copy _his_ work.

And now Harry wanted to claim him publically. Not that he’d made a secret of the fact that they spent time together. But now they would be friends. Officially.

Goyle squeezed the shoulder he was holding once before dropping his hand. “Sure. Course.”

Harry’s grin persisted as they diligently worked to complete their essays for the next day’s class.

 

* * *

 

“Harry, where’ve you been mate? Hermione was just about to send out a search party.”

Harry grinned apologetically before slipping into place across from them, Goyle quietly taking the seat next to his. “I’ve been on a journey of self discovery.”

Recognizing the slightly mocking tone of Harry’s voice, Ron’s face lit up. “Discover anything interesting? Sex? Drugs? Magic?”

Hermione snorted softly.

Harry glanced at the other Eighth Years at their table whose ears perked up as they tried to eavesdrop discretely. Another one of McGonagall’s brilliant ideas, or at least he thought so, was to give the Eighth Years their own table in the Great Hall. There were few enough of them for the table to fit nicely into a corner of the Hall. They were far enough away to have privacy, but close enough to not be completely isolated from everyone else. And this way Harry didn’t have to go table hoping when he wanted a quiet meal with some of the new friends he was discovering this year.

Harry grinned again, adopting a slightly pompous, declaiming tone, one he’d heard Percy use when spouting about rules and Ministry _procedure_ at Weasley family gatherings. “Indeed I have, Ronald Bilius. I have discovered something much more potent than any of those things.”

Hermione looked up and give him a small smile. She loved it whenever he was in his playful, mischievous, slightly silly mood. She called it his ‘puppy-mode’.

Well aware that he had an audience now, Harry continued, his back painfully straight, one hand on his chest. “Is it sex? No, it is not. Although it can lead to the expectation of sex. Is it drugs? Alas, no such escape for the intrepid hero. Although, it can induce the same heights of euphoria and the same depths of despair. Is it magic? It is most assuredly not. And it most assuredly is.”

Hermione’s lips were twitching in earnest now, her eyes clear and twinkling with delight in a way that Harry realized he hadn’t seen in some time.

“Canst thou guess whereof the wondrous thing I speak?”

Ron snorted into his mashed potatoes and then imitated his pose. “Enlighten us, O Wise One.”

“Ah my young apprentice. Such eagerness should be rewarded. And so I shall tell you what I have discovered.” Harry paused, and then leaned in as if sharing a secret. Everyone around him leaned forward reflexively to hear better. “I, Harry James Potter, eldest son and heir of James Potter, have on this day – _Tuesday_ – discovered... Love.”

There was snorting from the boys at the table, and just a little bit of wistful sighing from some of the girls.

Ron was one of the snorters and Hermione frowned at him before turning back to Harry. “Love, O Wise One? What is it that you have discovered about Love?”

“Love, my apprentice, I have found is a commodity that, as precious as it is, should never be hoarded. So, it is not so much Love that is discovered today, but rather _whom_ it is that I do Love. And I have decided that in order to no longer waste any of the precious time that has been given to us, I shall tell this person that I love about the Love that I have discovered.”

A murmur ran down the table at this declaration.

Harry bowed his head as if in sorrow then. “Indeed, I have not been able to previously express my Love for this person in any adequate manner. And before our time runs out, I would like to tell this person that I do indeed Love them dearly.”

Hermione’s smile had turned soft. She suspected that Harry wasn’t entirely jesting in his grand gesture. “And why haven’t you been able to tell them before, O Wise One?”

Harry leaned forward secretively again. “You see, my apprentice, this person I love, this man-“ Harry paused for the murmuring to quiet down and watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He waited until the blonde sneered at all this foolishness and took a sip of his pumpkin juice before he finished his sentence. “Why, this man resides in Slytherin.”

Ron choked on his turkey roast. Nott, sitting opposite Malfoy, ended up with a face full of pumpkin juice. Goyle helpfully thumped anyone within reach who appeared to be having trouble swallowing. Pansy immediately started shrieking and crowing while thumping Blaise repeatedly. “I _knew_ it! Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I? I KNEW it!!!”

Harry wanted to dissolve into the helpless giggles that were threatening, especially when the horrified looks that Ron and Malfoy wore were nearly identically in their eye popping imitation of guppies. But he figured he needed to finish what he had started.

Climbing slowly to his feet, he schooled his features into solemnity, and turned towards the Slytherin side of the table, all of whom appeared to be holding their breath in anticipation.

Harry reached out and placed a hand on Goyle’s shoulder. “Gregory Goyle, of the House of Slytherin, I declare that I love you like a brother of my heart. Would you honor this love by accepting it?”

Harry chanced a peek at his audience at this point. Some of them looked like they were going to have a heart attack.

Goyle slowly stood to his feet, careful not to jostle the much shorter Harry’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. Then he imitated the pose, resting his hand on Harry’s opposite shoulder. “I accept.”

Harry abandoned the pretense and gave a firm squeeze to the solid muscle in the shoulder he was holding and smiled up at Goyle.

Just by the shape of how his lips were curving, Harry could tell it was one of the smiles that Hermione called his ‘special people’ smile. Normally, he just scoffed at her, but he admitted that if ever there was a time to produce a special people smile, now would be it. As much as some of this had been for entertainment, he was glad he’d done it regardless, because Goyle was special, and he should be told.

They both sat down to finish their meal, Harry perfectly content to enjoy the almost strangled conversations happening around him. Everyone was clearly dying to have a good gossip in, but no one wanted to upset Harry or Goyle, both of who could be unpredictable when it came to this sort of thing.

Harry could see the way Hermione was looking at him though. They were going to Talk later. He was fine with that. He had to tell her he loved her too after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy was pacing back and forth, waving her arms and wringing her hands while she muttered under her breath.

Blaise and Draco exchanged a look across the room from where they were lounging on their beds. Draco was hoping Goyle wouldn’t take too much longer to show up or Pansy might take it upon herself to go hunt him down.

She turned around to watch silently as Goyle came into the room and made his way to perch on the edge of Draco’s bed. There was a moment or two of silence, before: “He _loves_ you? Greg, what the hell?!! Did you know he was going to do that?!”

Goyle shook his head, then ducked a little bit. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. Well, I mean, he told me before.. and that he was glad we were friends.. and if it was okay if he told people that we were friends now.. But I didn’t know he was going to do _that_.”

The room was quiet as everyone digested that.

Finally Theo opened his mouth to comment, then hesitated. Pansy gave him a look and he sighed. His voice was soft when he finally got the words out. “I reckon that means he really meant it. You know.. when he said that he wanted to forget all the shit that’s happened because of the Dark Lord and to get on with the business of living.” He looked around at everyone else in the room. “I mean.. I knew he thought he meant it.. but you know that’s been said before because it the politic thing to do, but no one really actually _means_ it.”

Draco snorted. “I don’t think Potter would know _politic_ if it bit him in the arse. He doesn’t say shit if he doesn’t mean it.”

Pansy gave him a sharp look but then ignored him in favor of resuming her pacing.

Daphne jumped up suddenly and gave Goyle a hug. “Well I think it’s wonderful Goyle.” She smiled at him. “He seems like he would be a good friend to have.”

Goyle smiled back and nodded. “He is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was still thinking about that conversation when he crawled into bed that night. Potter _was_ a good friend to have. All else aside, no one could fault his treatment of his friends.

His gut writhed a bit as he thought about the smile Potter had bestowed on Goyle at dinner. In spite of himself, he had been warmed by it – which was just ridiculous considering that Potter hadn’t even been _looking_ in his direction.

That smile was probably the reason none of the Slytherins had questioned Potter’s declaration too much. His tone had been a little mocking, a little pompous while he’d been putting on that ridiculous show, but when he’d actually looked at Goyle, his smile had been in his eyes rather than just on his lips.

Any Slytherin worth his salt recognized that kind of sincerity on the rare occasion they encountered it. And Potter’s smile had been ... _special_ ... for lack of a better word. It was rare enough to find that kind of open sincerity at all.. even more precious when it was directed at ex-Death Eaters and Slytherins ... especially now, that none of them would tarnish its value by scoffing.

As Draco stared into the darkness of his canopy he swallowed a lump that tasted an awful lot like envy.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted early as a birthday present for markel_malfoy ... because I adore reviews! :) :)
> 
> Happy birthday, markel!
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable deliciousness belongs to the lovely JKR.. Everything else I embellished :)

 

Harry didn’t say anything as he felt the space next to him on the couch depress. He simply closed the book he was reading and set it aside before wrapping one arm around Hermione as they both snuggled down, basking in the warmth of the Common Room fire.

Harry constructed privacy wards that allowed sound to filter in but none to filter out with a practiced flick of his wrist. Then he settled his cheek on Hermione’s bushy haired head and simply waited. She was one of the few people he was comfortable hugging for prolonged periods of time, and she knew it. Probably the only reason Ron didn’t kick up a fuss and she indulged him.

Harry grinned a little. That plus the fact he was rather rampantly gay for a certain delicious blonde.

Hermione poked him with a gentle finger in his ribs. He could hear the smile in her voice. “You _love_ him? Don’t you think that’s just a bit sudden?”

Harry snorted softly. “Did you see the look on Ron’s face? It was priceless!”

Hermione chuckled but poked him again. “Harry.”

Harry sighed and moved back a little so they could look at each other as they talked. “It just kind of occurred to me when we were in the library working on our essay... and I wanted to tell him.” His lips thinned a little as he pressed them together. “So many people died without my being able to tell them I loved them...” He murmured softly. He glanced down and met ‘Mione’s sympathetic gaze.

“I’m sure they knew, Harry. Whether you told them or not.”

Harry shook his head a little. “I don’t want there to be any doubt whatsoever with all of the people who mean something to me ‘Mione. Life’s too short and too unpredictable. I want to tell people in so many words when they mean something to me.” He glanced down at Hermione again, and his eyes softened and glowed as a smile appeared to quirk his lips suddenly. “I love you too ‘Mione. I hope you know that.”

“Oh Harry.” Hermione squeezed his sides a little as she gave him a half hug. “Of course I know that.” Then she smiled. “And I love you.”

Harry blushed a little, then winked at her. “Now ‘Mione! What would Ronald say?!”

It was Hermione’s turn to blush. She poked Harry in the ribs again, harder this time.

Harry just smirked and batted her hand away.

“So are you ready to tell me what you were up to this afternoon then?”

“I had a fight with Malfoy.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry...”

“No ‘Mione. This was different. He fought back and everything. You saw how messed up my shoulder was when you fixed it.”

“I worry about you, Harry.”

Harry smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I know. You wouldn’t be ‘Mione if you didn’t fret.” She mock glared, but Harry just smiled some more. “But ‘Mione, don’t you see? I have this under control. This is exactly what I wanted. I mean, I like Malfoy and all...” Harry blushed and stammered a little. “I mean I like the way he looks just fine...”

Hermione gave an inelegant snort. “I just bet you do.”

Harry stuck his tongue out her. “Yes, I do. But ‘Mione, I didn’t want to start anything with that zombie that he’s been around us all this time. I mean, come on ... it was unnatural. I couldn’t possibly start anything until he was more himself. It wouldn’t be the same.”

Hermione sighed. “And I’ve told you before, Harry. There has to be a better way to pull him out of his funk than just fighting with him. Look at the damage you’re doing – to yourself and to him.”

Harry paused as guilt tried to rise, then he shrugged it off. He hadn’t been able to help his reactions around Malfoy for a long time now, and he’d finally decided he might as well give in rather than fight the urges. “But it’s working ‘Mione! He fought back, and for those few minutes he was more the Malfoy I’ve always known than I’ve seen all year.”

Hermione hesitated. “Harry... Have you considered that maybe it might be a good thing that he’s changed from what he used to be like before? I mean, even you have to admit that he acted like a snot-nosed arse during the majority of his tenure at Hogwarts.”

Harry watched the fire as he chewed on this for a bit. “Well, I have to admit that it’s nice not having to watch him being a bastard to everyone. But ‘Mione, there’s a difference between growing up and not being able to recognize yourself in the mirror, and I feel like what’s happened with Malfoy is too much of the latter.” He should know. He’d gone through a phase right after the war where as many celebrations as funerals were happening. He’d felt like he was lost and might never have come back to himself if it hadn’t been for the fact that his friends wouldn’t abandon him – not even to himself. The least he could do was return the favor for someone who looked like they could use the extra push.

Hermione sighed again. “But still, Harry... Fighting? It’s not right...”

Harry gave her shoulders a squeeze to end the argument and smiled a little. Hermione would never be comfortable with any approximation to violence, no matter what the justification. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Hermione snuggled into his side, and they settled down to examine the different groupings of students that were spread all around in silence again.

Harry smiled as he watched Ron trying to get some of the boys to abandon their Exploding Snap to play chess with him. He wasn’t likely to have much success considering the number of times he’d trounced all of the players currently trying to ignore the bribes of Honeydukes chocolates.

“You’ve been neglecting your boyfriend, you know.” Harry kept his voice light. With as stressed as ‘Mione was, he didn’t want to add to it, but he thought it was his duty as best mate to at least make her aware of the situation.

Hermione bit her lip. “I know.” She sounded miserable regardless of how gentle Harry had tried to make his voice. “It’s just with the Newts, and head girl duties, and everything else...”

“You know you don’t have to do all this on your own, right?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and Harry grinned a little. “Okay, so the head girl duties aren’t likely to be something you can fob off, and I don’t think _anyone_ is likely to make color-coordinated schedules for Newt studies if you don’t ...” He chuckled as Hermione poked his ribs again. “But the rest of it ‘Mione... You don’t have to do it alone.” His smiled turned soft as he flicked his gaze to Ron and back. “He’s been looking out for me too, you know. In his own way, of course. But he made it just as clear that he didn’t think it was healthy to go around picking fights with Malfoy all the time.”

Hermione blinked. “He did?”

Harry smiled and nodded as Hermione lapsed into silence, her eyes alert now as they watched Ron.

“Well. This is cozy.”

Harry looked up and cancelled the privacy wards with another practiced flick of his wand.

Blaise smirked at the picture he and ‘Mione made. “Does Weasley know you’re cheating on him, Granger?”

Hermione huffed and stood, planting a kiss on Harry’s cheek and straightening her skirt. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a boyfriend I’ve been neglecting.”

Harry and Blaise both chuckled as they watched her march across the room and drag Ron up the dorm stairs, chessboard, chocolates and all.

Blaise flopped down onto the couch next to Harry, albeit not as close as Hermione’d been earlier. “What, Potter? No declarations of love for me today?”

“Sod off, Blaise.” He was smiling as he said it though, reaching for the book he’d put aside earlier. “You get the references for the shield?”

Blaise nodded and dug into his book bag for the books he’d just checked out of the school library. “I found an earlier version. It’s easier to cast and drains less energy.”

“Why would they have a newer version?”

“Doesn’t cover as much ground.” Blaise grimaced. “Not nearly as much ground.”

Harry grinned and flipped open his own reference, settling down to start comparing notes.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco paused in jotting notes and flexed his fingers, trying to work out the cramps from holding a quill precisely in the same position for hours on end. His hand writing was close enough to calligraphy that he’d always been praised for his script. The cost, of course, was making that much extra effort when writing. And he refused to compromise even though what he’d been writing out for the past couple of hours were the rough notes from various source materials for a Potions practical that the professor had hinted would be crucial for their Newts.

He took a habitual scan of the Common Room preparing to go back to work, and then paused.

Potter was sitting exactly where he had been a half hour ago when Draco had last looked up from his work. The only difference was that Granger was nowhere to be found. Instead, Blaise was seated on the same couch as him, each boy holding his wand aloft, a book open between them on the couch.

Draco’s breath caught a little at the striking picture they made.

Draco had always known that Blaise was good looking. He had model good looks, with all that bronzed skin, a strong jaw and dark hair. Now, sitting across from Potter, facing each other, he would have thought Potter would come out looking the worse off by comparison – which just went to show what he knew. In a strange way, the two looked like flip sides of the same coin.

Dark hair that could have nearly been the exact same except that Blaise’s was tamed, and Potter’s a wild mass. Strong brows, furrowed in concentration. Long lashes shading eyes alight with curiosity, Blaise’s dark orbs to Potter’s deep emerald ones. Prominent cheek bones and straight noses leading to full lips, quirked in half smiles as they worked together. Strong chins, Blaise’s a little more square, even though Potter’s had a stronger tilt indicating that perhaps he’d be the more stubborn of the two. Smooth, tanned skin sweeping along taut necks, disappearing into identical white uniform shirts.

And just like that Draco was struck by the unwelcome thought that Potter was damn good looking. In fact, had he not been _Potter_ , he might even have been one of those specimens that he regularly drooled over with Pansy.

Why hadn’t he seen it before?

Speak of the devil... Pans flopped down into the sofa next to his, bringing with her a fresh cloud of cosmetics and perfumes that she had no doubt just refreshed. Goyle carefully lowered her book bag next to Draco’s before hefting his own more securely onto his shoulder.

Pansy looked up at him when he didn’t take a seat. “Aren’t you staying, Greg?”

Goyle shrugged. “I thought maybe I’d go to the library. Just for a bit.”

Draco and Pansy nodded at him before he turned around to walk towards the entrance. They would never scoff at Goyle’s attempts to improve in his school work. Though he regularly ignored similar disparaging remarks from the rest of the school, they would cut to the quick if hinted at by those who he considered friends. These were the people he chose to be completely himself with and thus knowingly put the weapons to hurt him within their easy reach.

Draco frowned as he watched Goyle detour to the pair on the couch on his way out. Potter looked up and blinked as if he’d just realized there were people around him. “Shit! What time is it?” Then he saw Goyle standing beside him, and there was that smile lighting up his face again.

Pansy hummed softly. “I’ve always thought Slytherin green a bit much for your skin tone, Draco darling.”

Draco glanced at his outfit and raised a brow at her. “What are you muttering about, Pans?”

Pansy smirked and mockingly raised a brow in return, tilting her head in the direction of the trio from where soft laughter floated towards them. “Certainly not your wardrobe.”

Draco scowled. “Again with the farfetched theories, Pans?”

Pansy dropped the smirk and eyed him seriously. “Is it really?”

Draco scowl deepened. “Pans-”

She held up a hand. “Just think about it. Would it really be so bad if something were to happen between you and Potter?”

Draco sneaked another glance to where the Gryffindor was waving his arms expressively as he explained something to Goyle. When he looked back at Pansy, the smirk had returned.

“At the very least, you’d have beautiful babies.”

Draco groaned and ducked his head, electing to go back to his note taking rather than deal with Pansy in her current mood. He couldn’t help sneaking glances at Potter and Blaise though as Goyle left for the library, and they returned to whatever they had been doing, their heads bent together.

What would it be like, to have all that intent attention centered on him? To be the focus of that rather intense gaze?

He didn’t know what had happened to Potter in the year he had spent wandering before he defeated the Dark Lord, except for briefly when their paths had crossed, but whatever it was, it had added a weight to his eyes that made it hard to meet his gaze for too long without feeling like he would be sucked into it. He’d had plenty of chances to experience that particular sensation since Potter had made a game of baiting him after they’d returned to Hogwarts.

What would it be like to just let himself drown in that gaze rather than turn away when he felt on the verge of being snared?

He started a little when the subject of his contemplation looked up and caught him staring. He hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped working.

Draco scowled and returned his eyes to the parchment laid out in front of him, giving himself a mental shake. This was Potter he was talking about, for Godric’s sake. There was no way in hell that he should even be contemplating this particular train of thought. Besides, the fucker hated his guts and lived to make him miserable. Just him.

Not Slytherins. Case in point, Blaise.

Not ex-Death Eaters. Case in point, Goyle, who he _loved_ apparently.

Not blokes. Case in point, any male currently residing in Hogwarts Castle, with the notable exception of him.

Not even Malfoys. Case in point, his mother, who Potter had treated with great courtesy when they’d crossed paths during the trials. Truth be told, Draco hadn’t thought Potter had it in him to have such pretty manners. And there he was, proven wrong, yet again.

As he felt his gaze straying from the Potions texts again, he pushed aside his thoughts hastily, his gut giving a twinge. The twinge was a familiar one this year, and though Draco fastidiously refused to put a name to the emotion, it was awfully close to hurt at his treatment at the hands of one particular Gryffindor who appeared to have forgiven everyone but him.

 

* * *

The next time he was cornered by Potter, it was a week later.

He’d been avoiding the brunette all week, careful to make sure he wouldn’t be around whenever he was likely to be.

With the weekend approaching and Friday classes having let out a couple of hours ago, he’d grown complacent at the reprieve the next couple of days offered. He’d been planning on holing up in the Eighth Year dorms and not venturing forth from there, no matter the temptation. That was the one place where Potter never approached him – had never so much as sneered in his direction in fact.

As he understood it from Pansy – who had apparently been having a nice old gossiping session with Granger of all people – it had something to do with the fact that the dorms were meant to be their ‘home’ while at Hogwarts and Potter refused, on principle, to chase him from the one place that was meant to be his bolt hole while here.

Whatever the reason, Draco was grateful for the ability to be able to relax without having to worry about capricious Gryffindors bursting into his room at inopportune moments and cornering him.

Admittedly he’d worried about that very thing in the beginning, and confessed his fears to Pansy – as he confessed almost all his thoughts. She’d frowned in thought for a bit before heading off to hunt down Granger bizarrely enough. But she’d gotten the reassurances that he’d been looking for.

He hadn’t realized how tense he had actually been until that conversation, when what had felt like a permanent knot between his shoulders loosened.

Of course, he should have remembered that just because apparently the dorms were off limits, the rest of the school was fair game.

“Going somewhere, Malfoy?”

Draco froze, then turned around, resisting the urge to scowl at the Gryffindor. Calm. He must remain calm, dropping his practiced mask into place, allowing no emotions to escape.

Potter’s frown only deepened though, when he caught sight of the expressionless mask Draco presented him with. And suddenly, Draco was right there, in the middle of the last time he’d had a chance to encounter Potter all by himself, and Potter was hissing in his face. “This... Fight back, Malfoy.”

Draco nearly gasped as the realization hit. It was the lack of reaction from him that got Potter all riled up to the point of violence every time.

Experimentally, he allowed the scowl he had been sequestering to cross his face as he gazed at Potter. His brow cleared immediately, and he even smiled a little.

Draco shook his head a little, bewildered.

“Well, Malfoy?” Potter now had a pleased smile on his face, as if this was all part of some great plan that he'd concocted. “You never answered my question?”

Draco scowled freely and fiercely at Potter suddenly, and felt a thrill rush through him. Though Potter couldn’t have known, he had given him a gift of immeasurable value. He was free to react however he chose. The blank, polite mask wasn’t required of him. In fact, if he was reading Potter’s body language accurately – and he had been taught to recognize such things from a very young age – then it was really only the expressionless mask that Potter found loathsome.

Draco strangled hope before it could take root in his chest. Just because Potter only appeared to hate the expressionless mask that Draco detested donning with a passion, didn’t mean that he was any fonder of what lay beneath it. For the moment he would revel in the ability to freely air his emotions. He hated his own façade with a passion, but it was a barrier he had found he needed more and more everyday as he dealt with people who came to him with his father’s reputation, and the range swung all the way from psychopathic adoration to unadulterated hatred.

“What do you want, Potter?”

“Just to talk.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Talk? About what, exactly?”

Potter’s lips quirked. “Anything. Quidditch. The weather. Art. Music. Poetry. Bathilda’s awful, awful haircut. You pick.”

In spite of himself, Draco’s lips twitched. He had had his exposition on the subject of one Bathilda Merrweather, Seventh Year, Ravenclaw, and her rather unfortunate choice of haircut from Pansy yesterday. Apparently crew cuts were not meant for chubby girls.

Draco shook his in a small abortive shake. “So, what? You want to just stand here and chat? In case you hadn’t noticed, Potter, neither of us is a fishwife with nothing better to do.”

Potter smirked and his eyes sparkled. “Oh I noticed.”

Unaccountably Draco found himself fighting a blush. He whirled around, ready to make good his escape. “Shut up, Potter.”

As it so happened, the Gryffindor had other ideas.

As soon as he took the first step, he felt a firm hand at his elbow.

Draco didn’t let himself think about it. He knew if he allowed himself even an instant of second thought, he would back off. And he didn’t want to back off. All of the frustration that his imperturbable mask had hidden all year wanted desperate release. And Potter had unaccountably volunteered himself by giving Draco permission to express his emotions freely.

Draco swung around, his fist flying already, all of the power of his shoulders behind the swing when it connected with Potter’s jaw. There was a popping sound, like a high pressure container suddenly releasing, and Draco stood starring at Potter as he staggered and blinked repeatedly, trying to get his bearings.

Once he was steady on his feet, Potter gingerly reached up to feel his jaw. It appeared to be locked in place – in all likelihood, Draco had broken it.

Then Potter dropped his hand and looked up directly at Draco, his eyes glowing. His lips stretched into a grin, the effect rather grotesque since his jaw wasn’t completely aligned properly. “Oh it is on, son. It’s on like Donkey Kong!”

Draco raised one eyebrow at that obscure reference and then was forced to dismiss all thought as Potter stepped forwards, ready to take his revenge.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco clutched his ribs as he bent at the knees, forcibly trying to drag oxygen into his body.

Potter was standing a couple of feet away, leaning against the wall, breathing harshly and spitting out blood.

“So. How about that weather, huh?”

Draco lifted his head to stare at Potter. He was dribbling blood even after having spat out a large amount. He was pretty sure it was because Draco’d broken his jaw. His breathing was staccato and sounded labored, as if he had to consciously remember to breath. He was standing as if the wall was the only thing holding him up. And he wanted to know about the weather?

“Fucked in the head.”

Potter made a gurgling sound and opened his mouth in that bloody approximation of a grin again. “Come on, Malfoy. Admittedly it’s been cold lately, but it’s not as bad all that.”

“You. Potter. You’re fucked in the head.”

Potter made that gurgling sound again, then looked down at himself. “I need to get cleaned up before I go to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Pomfrey? Can’t Granger fix whatever?”

Potter grimaced as he shifted his jaw a little, then shook his head. “Most of this, yeah. But jaw injuries are apparently one of those things that require an actual healer’s touch.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and Potter wuffed a little. “Trust me. I’ve spent enough time in the Hospital Wing to know what can and can’t be fixed without Madam Pomfrey’s tender mercies.”

He pushed away from the wall and took two steps when his knees buckled.

Before Draco quite knew what he was doing he’d taken a step forward and caught Potter under the arms before he could hit the floor.

Suddenly finding himself with an armful of Potter, Draco didn’t know what to do except stare as Potter brought one hand up to his head and tried to shake it without disturbing his jaw at the same time. That he even thought that was possible showed just how fucked up he was.

Blinking the haze from his eyes he looked up at Draco and finally seemed to realize just who was holding him up. His free hand immediately went to Draco’s shoulder as he tried to get his feet under him.

“Whoa. I think I might have a touch of concussion there.” He straightened on the third try, relieving some of the weight from Draco’s arms. Draco didn’t let go. Just in case. “Quite the punch you pack there, Malfoy.”

In spite of himself, Draco found himself smiling. “You’re just a pansy, Potter.”

He gurgled again. “I wouldn’t let Pansy hear you say that if I were you.”

Draco tried to choke off his laughter but a strangled chuckle escaped. Potter blinked at him, that slightly glazed look in his eyes again. “Right. Pomfrey.”

That had Potter strengthening his hold on Draco’s shoulder and straightening again. “Nope. Have to clean up first. If I get another detention ‘Mione’ll just kill me off herself.”

“Potter, you need help...”

“You want to help, Malfoy, get me to the prefect’s bathroom around the corner.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? And how would you get in?”

Potter grimace approximating a smile turned smug. “Best friends with the head girl, remember?”

Draco sighed and shifted one of his arms around Potter, pulling the arm clutching his shoulder around to anchor him. “Stickler for the rules head girl actually gave you the password?”

Potter gurgled. “There might have been some light bribery slash blackmail involved.”

Draco huffed. “Right. The head girl’s playing fast and loose with the rules. The Gryffindor Golden Boy’s going around bribing and blackmailing people. What’s next? Longbottom’s secretly a Potions genius?”

“Weeeell...”

 

* * *

Draco carefully lowered Potter to the ledge next to humongous bath tub in the prefect’s bathroom. His breathing was labored and he gave a harsh gasp now and then.

Draco wouldn’t say he was worried exactly... but still. Once they’d stopped talking so Potter could concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, he hadn’t liked the sound of the rattling that was serving Potter for breathing at the moment.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter blinked up at him. “You don’t have to hang around now. I can manage.”

Draco scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m not going anywhere. With my luck the last thing I need is the Chosen One croaking on my watch.”

Potter gurgled, then grimaced. “Fine. But this is going to take some time. I’m not really at my best at the moment.”

“Whatever, Potter. Just don’t drown while you’re in there. I’ll be next door in one of the stalls. You’re not the only one who looks like a casualty of war you know.”

The very air in the room seemed to freeze as the words caught up with Draco. ‘ _Fuck._ ’ He turned to meet Potter’s eyes, almost afraid of what he would find there.

Potter’s face had been completely wiped of expression. Draco resisted the urge to squirm as Potter gazed at him. Then his eyes softened in a way he’d never seen before. Or at least, he’d never seen that look in Potter’s eyes directed at himself.

He didn’t smile, but his voice was light when he spoke. “No promises, Malfoy. If you hear screaming and carrying on, just assume that's me kicking the bucket.”

Draco hesitated, then just nodded and spun on one heel, eager to get out of there and clean up himself. The sooner he got Potter to the Infirmary, the sooner he could have Pansy take a look at his ribs. They were a dull throbbing in his side with the occasional shooting pain, and supporting most of Potter’s weight hadn’t helped any.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry let out a rattling sigh as he watched Malfoy leave the room. Right. Now to get to the no doubt perilous task of undressing. It almost didn’t seem worth it when he knew he would have to get dressed again in a little bit.

He opened some of the taps, not really caring what went in the tub as long it was soapy and the water hot. He was just grateful they were within reaching distance. He didn’t think he was in any condition to try getting up yet.

It was really that first hit he’d taken in the face that had made his brain slosh.

Most of his other injuries were superficial and nothing he couldn’t handle. But he’d been completely unprepared for that particular blow and ended up taking the full impact of it on his jaw instead of rolling with the blow in order to minimize the damage as he’d learned at the Dudley School of Hard Knocks.

He suspected the cracked jaw had given him a concussion. It was painful as all fuck, making it hard to concentrate on anything when all he really wanted to do was curl up on his side and whimper. Not to mention it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and the inability to align the jaw back to its proper place was making it hard to breathe or swallow.

Harry turned the taps off once he figured the tub was full enough to sit in without drowning and wriggled out of his trousers and pants. Then taking as deep a breath as he could in his current condition, he breathed out slowly as he gingerly pulled his t-shirt over his head, resisting the urge to clench his teeth against the pain.

If his jaw hurt like a bitch now, he didn’t want to imagine the world of hurt that clenching it would lead to.

Harry sighed as he slid slowly into the hot water. Perfect.

As he sat soaking up the heat, he rotated his bad shoulder, trying to assess the damage. With the shooting pain in his jaw distracting him, he couldn’t really tell if he’d wrenched it again, but it felt a little stiff and he figured a dose of Hermione’s special deep tissue bruise salve couldn’t hurt.

“Winky!”

“You called Winky, Master Harry?”

“Yes, Winky. There’re just a couple of things I need you to do for me, if you have the time now?”

“Anything for Master Harry, sir.”

“Right. Umm... there’s some clothes there that are pretty much ruined I reckon. See if you can’t do something with them, please? Also, I’d like a clean set of clothes. And while you’re there, could you get my bruise salve and a pain relieving potion as well, please? They’ll be in my side table drawer in the dorms. Oh, and an ice pack, if you can find one.”

“Yes, Master Harry, sir. Winky will get things for you. Winky will be quick.” She collected his dirty clothes and popped out.

Harry sighed as he soaped and rinsed his hair, already feeling better as he washed away some of the blood and grime.

He’d bound Winky to him after the war despite Hermione’s extreme displeasure. She’d been a mess and he thought it would’ve made Dobby happy to know that she was taken care of now.

Even ‘Mione’d had to admit that there had been a huge improvement in the house-elf. She’d stopped drinking, kept clean and tidy and generally did whatever odd jobs here at Hogwarts that she was meant to have been doing to begin with. The only difference was that she was personally bound to Harry rather than the school and had made him promise never to disgrace her with mention of payment.

And if Harry occasionally used her for personal errands... well, it seemed to make Winky happy, and what Hermione didn’t know couldn’t hurt Harry.

“Thanks Winky,” Harry murmured as she popped in with his things with a small bow.

Right. Now to get to the painful task of dragging himself out of the tub and getting dressed again. First things first. He uncorked the Pain Relieving Potion and downed as much as he could swallow awkwardly, washing the rest away where it’d sloshed onto his chest.

 

* * *

Draco hovered outside the infirmary, surreptitiously peeking inside to determine what the Mediwitch was saying in between scolding Potter.

He’d been impressed when he’d emerged from his own shower. He’d taken extra long over his hair to give Potter as much time as possible, but he’d still been unprepared for the transformation.

Potter had been sitting where he’d last seen him, but he wouldn’t have believed he’d been in a fight if Draco hadn’t been the one to mess him up.

He’d found clean clothes somewhere, his hair was damp and appeared tame for once, all of the abrasions and bruises from earlier had disappeared, and even the swelling in his jaw had lessened – probably because of the ice pack he was holding to it as he waited.

He’d produced a pot of premium bruise salve and offered it to Draco without a word.

There was no label on the salve, but Draco wasn’t a Potions adept for nothing. He’d been able to tell the salve was high grade quality just from the smell, color and texture of the thing. Even more impressive, it appeared to have a mild pain reliever mixed right in.

Potter had sat patiently icing his jaw and wincing while Draco quickly took care of all of his visible bruises.

He had then firmly refused anything more than a hand on his elbow to keep him from stumbling as they made their way to the Infirmary.

Though he appeared to be doing much better, he hadn’t said a word the whole way there.

That, more than anything else, was disconcerting Draco. A brassy, whiny, whinging Potter was normal. A strangely quiet Potter with exhaustion and pain lines around his mouth and eyes was making Draco twitchy.

It was the reason he was lurking outside the Infirmary now even though Potter had refused any more assistance once they’d reached the entrance to the Mediwitch’s lair and insisted that it would be better for all concerned if he went in by himself.

Draco grinned as that same whinging, whiny voice rose in volume from inside the Infirmary.

“Stay the night?! But Madam Pomfrey I’m all healed! And-”

“You are not healed!” Pomfrey interrupted firmly. “You of all people should know that magic can only do so much, Harry. Magic can vastly speed up the healing process, but it can’t replace good honest rest. You broke your jaw and have a mild concussion. You must _rest_ if you don’t want to exacerbate the problem further.”

“But-”

“And no talking! I’ve sent for some food for you. No solids until lunch tomorrow. And after you’re done eating I’m going to put a brace on your jaw to restrict movement. It needs to be held in place in order to heal properly.”

Draco snickered and left Potter gaping at the Mediwitch, finally satisfied.

 

* * *

Draco breezed into the Common Room and winced only a little as he flopped down next to Blaise and Pansy where they were arguing about an article in one of the porn magazines they played tag with.

She narrowed her eyes at him as his expression registered. “And what are you so smug about?”

Draco was torn between grinning like a loon and smirking. “Potter’s being muzzled as we speak,” he announced.

Pansy squealed and hopped onto the couch next to Draco, jostling his ribs. “Easy Pans,” he huffed. “You might have to take a look at my ribs too in a bit.”

Pansy gasped. “You two fought again, didn’t you?!” She paused and gave him a once-over. “You don’t _look_ like you’ve been manhandling Gryffindors...”

Draco nodded dismissively. “Cleaned up on the way here. I didn’t want to get detention wandering the halls looking like a wreck.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. “Muzzled?”

Draco grinned. “Yeah. Potter seems to have run into someone’s fist and broken his jaw. He’s in the hospital wing on a liquid diet. He’s not allowed to talk, and Pomfrey’s putting a muzzle on him after he’s done eating.”

Pansy bit her lip. “You won’t get into trouble, will you, Draco? I mean, it is Potter...”

“Nah. I stuck around long enough to make sure he wouldn’t rat me out.”

No need to mention the odd twinging in his gut when he’d thought there might be something seriously wrong with Potter after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review cookies?


	3. Chapter 3

 

Draco groaned as their chests touched, firm flesh meeting smooth expanse of warm muscle. He arched his back into the touch, his lips ghosting over salty golden flesh, the thudding of the heart in the chest pressed to his a counterpoint to his own heartbeat. His fingers kneaded warm, slick flesh as they moved lower along the smooth back of the weight holding him down.

"Oh, fuck! Oh...! Oh yes!" Teeth nipped at his earlobe as that raspy voice hissed. "Yes! Fuck!"

 

Draco gasped as his eyes flew open. He groaned, squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands as he realized that his pajamas were wet. That hadn't happened to him in.. ages! And to think he'd wanked just last night before going to bed.

"Sooo... Interesting dream?"

Draco groaned louder and refused to look at Blaise. He didn't need to in order to imagine the shit eating grin he was probably sporting as he watched Draco writhe in discomfort while the mess on his sheets cooled.

Blaise snickered as he moved towards the wash rooms. "Better get yourself sorted or we'll miss breakfast."

“It’s fucking Saturday!”

“It’s _pancake_ Saturday. Pansy’s already in the Common Room.”

Draco sighed and kept his eyes closed. Right. Merlin forbid they keep Pans from her scheduled binging. He listened to his heartbeat calming down and thought about the heartbeat in the dream he'd just had. As good as everything had felt, he didn't want to examine the implications of the dark hair he'd been clutching right there at the end or he suspected he might start hyperventilating. As it was he’d been having trouble making eye contact with a certain Gryffindor who shall remain nameless.

 

* * *

  

Pansy was scowling and tapping her foot by the time they made it to the Common Room. Blaise raised both hands, palms out as soon as he saw her. “Not it.”

“Traitor,” Draco hissed, but Blaise merely smirked, used to that particular slur. To be called a traitor during the war would have meant a death sentence with very few questions asked. It amused the Slytherins to use it for trivial slights now. It was another way of exercising their freedom. A reminder that they _had_ freedom to speak as they wished, to _think_ as they wished, without fear.

Draco was saved from the hissy fit that was surely headed his way by another that appeared to be unfolding across the room.

“What do you mean his bed hasn’t been slept in?”

Weasley shrugged as he stared at his girlfriend. “Just that ‘Mione. He wasn’t there when I went up earlier.” Granger blushed but the frown didn’t leave her face. “I didn’t realize that the bed hadn’t been slept in until I went over to borrow his Charms –er, book.”

Granger narrowed her eyes at the obvious flub as Weasley shuffled guiltily. “We’ll address you lying about your homework later, Ron. We have to find Harry.”

Pansy looked at Draco out of the corner of her eye as they watched the drama unfold. “You going to tell them?”

Draco heaved a put-upon sigh, then raised his voice a little so it would carry. “Potter’s in the Hospital Wing.”

Granger paused in her interrogation of the other barely awake Eighth Years stumbling down from the dorm rooms and turned towards the Slytherins. “How do you know?”

Draco shrugged. “He was there last night.” Then he grinned wickedly. “Last I saw, in fact, Pomfrey was busy putting a muzzle on him. About time if you ask me.”

Both Granger and Weasley frowned, one puzzled and the other outraged. The Slytherins snickered softly in surprise. Draco hadn’t baited the Gryffindors in ages. In fact, he was more likely to walk away in order to avoid confrontation altogether these days, rather than actively goading anyone.

Granger’s puzzled gaze turned to Draco, then hardened as she pursed her lips. “He was fighting again, wasn’t he?” It wasn’t really a question.

Weasley bristled instantly, taking a step forward threateningly. “If you’ve hurt him, Malfoy-”

“Then he had it coming.”

Everyone blinked. Weasley turned around to look at Granger. “’Mione?”

She scoffed and started collecting her books and satchel from where they waited on the couches. “Please Ron. I am fresh out of sympathy for that boy.” She glared at Weasley. “You and I both know he probably started the fight.”

Draco stifled his urge to squirm while Weasley grimaced. Technically speaking, Potter hadn’t started this one. All he’d really wanted was to talk. Apparently.

Granger flipped her hair and nodded to Draco as she dragged an unresisting Weasley towards the exit. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

“Is Harry really in the Hospital Wing?”

Draco turned in surprise at the soft question. Goyle had a look of genuine concern on his face. Not that anyone who hadn’t known him as well as this group would be able to tell.

This time Draco did squirm. “Yeah. But Pomfrey seemed sure he’d be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

Goyle stared at him for a second, then nodded. “Muzzle?”

“Potter may or may not have broken his jaw.”

Goyle winced, being rather more intimately acquainted with that particular affliction than he would have liked.

Draco’s grin was half smug, half sheepish as he followed his friends to the Great Hall. He shook his head at the bizarre reality of having to reassure his own friends that he hadn’t done Potter a permanent injury and the incongruity of actually feeling almost awkward at having put him in the Infirmary.

 

* * *

 

Draco wandered the grounds aimlessly. He couldn't figure out what was making him so restless. It was a prickling discomfort he was used to, had been carrying around with him since the war ended, but it seemed to have worsened this week.

One reason could have been Potter.

Apparently whatever latest scolding Granger had given Potter had stuck. He'd pretty much left him alone the whole of last week after his release from Chez Pomfrey. No long, too intense looks, no sneers, no growling, no smirking, no baiting. Not even attempts to 'talk' again.

Which was all well and good; it was what Draco had wanted all along anyway.

What he hadn't realized was how much those things had become a part of his routine. Wake up, dodge Potter muttering under his breath. Go to breakfast, ignore Potter staring inappropriately, almost as if he was counting the number of bites he ate. Go to class, make sure to sit in the last row so he wouldn't have to put up with Potter drilling holes into the back of his skull with his eyes. All things that had irritated him no end when the year had started, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten used to them. Counted on them almost as defining what a normal day at Hogwarts felt like. They'd been missing for a week now, and it wasn't like he missed the taunting and occasional shove. It was just that without those distractions he'd found himself with too much time to focus on other things best forgotten. He felt like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in forever, and his feet ached from all the roaming around he had been doing this past week.

Almost as if summoned by the power of thought, a familiar figure swept by overhead as Draco passed behind the Slytherin bleachers in the Quidditch pitch.

Draco hesitated, then climbed up into the bleachers.

It took a couple of minutes for the wildly wheeling figure to realize he was there.

Potter didn’t say anything as he landed neatly in the aisle next to where Draco was seated. For a moment, they both stared at each other. When it looked like Potter was going to move away, Draco finally spoke up. “What’s the matter, Potter? Granger finally get through that thick skull of yours?”

Potter winced. “Yeah... that did _not_ go well. She used the jaw as an excuse to get Madam Pomfrey to take a closer look at my shoulder and convinced her that a couple of days of bed rest were just what I needed. I didn’t get let out until Sunday night.”

Draco thought about hiding his grin but figured the hell with it... It would probably piss Potter off just as much if he used his mask to hide glee as it did when hiding anger.

Potter cocked his head. “What’re you doing out here anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Flying helps me relax.” Potter shrugged, then looked at him expectantly.

Draco sighed. “I was bored.” He raised a hand to rub at his face then dropped it mid-movement.

Potter’s eyes suddenly turned very shrewd as he studied Draco’s face. The look made him feel naked almost. He shifted in his seat. “What?”

Potter flopped down into the seat one over from Draco without warning. “Been having nightmares recently?”

This time Draco’s voice was almost a screech, “What?”

Potter looked up at him then, shadows in his eyes and a solemn look on his face, pining Draco in his seat.

“I know all about nightmares, Malfoy. They get worse the longer you keep them bottled.” He paused, checking to see if Draco would add anything. Draco couldn’t have if he tried. His jaw was locked as if glued together. Satisfied that Draco wasn’t about to interrupt, he continued. “So, want to talk about it?”

Draco swallowed, wondering how he should respond.

Potter took another peek at him, but when he remained silent, shrugged and made as if to get up.

“How do you sleep?” Draco blurted. He blushed when Potter looked at him and cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I mean, how do you get any sleep if you have nightmares all the time?”

Potter’s grin was wicked. “I don’t.”

Draco scowled. “Thanks ever so. You’ve been a great fucking help.”

“I’m serious. At first I was taking Dreamless Sleep nearly every night, but I’ve been cut off. Apparently it is _important to the healthy development of mind and body to dream properly_. Now I sleep when I can, but most nights I don’t.”

“Pomfrey?”

“Hermione. She means well. What’s worse is that she turns out to be right much more often than she’s wrong.” Potter sighed and slouched. “In fact, she’s rarely wrong... especially about things that involve reading.”

“So, what? You’re never going to sleep again?”

“For the foreseeable future at any rate.” Potter gestured to his broom. “It helps if I’m too exhausted to think straight. You probably won’t get the whole night, but it should be good for a few hours.”

They sat in silence watching the clouds for a bit, then Potter snorted. “Look at us, having a decent conversation.”

“If you want, I can bloody your nose.”

Potter shuddered. “No thanks. I don’t think I can deal with the pain.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re squicky about a bloody nose all of a sudden?”

“Oh it’s not the blood I’m worried about. ‘Mione’s liable to turn vicious when you push her too far. I did my time in the Hospital Wing, thank you very much. I’m _not_ going back.”

Draco snickered, and they both lapsed back into silence.

"So.. Have you tried the Bromski Roll yet?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "No. Don't particularly have a death wish."

Potter laughed. "You'll never know till you try. I have the rolling bit down. Haven't been able to do that one handed thing yet though."

"That's the trick of it then, isn't it?"

 

* * *

 

 

The next Saturday, Draco slipped out of the main gates and headed towards the Quidditch pitch. That week had found Draco coming back to sit in the Slytherin bleachers to watch Potter practice nearly every day. They didn't really say much to each other. Potter would practice, and Draco would sit and watch.

Afterwards, they'd sit quietly while Potter caught his breath.

It should have been strange, but the silence between them was always comfortable.

Though Draco generally tried to maintain his impassive mask, he was impressed in spite of himself. Potter's attempts at breaking his neck were paying off.

The Bromski Roll involved rotating your broom at high speeds and catching the snitch as you went past on one of those spins. Bromski, who it was named after, had managed to do the thing on a fluke when he lost control of his broom after being hit by a bludger, and now it was all the rage with up and coming seekers trying to duplicate the maneuver. The trick really was being able to do it in a controlled fashion, and considering the circumstances in which it was born, not even Bromski had been able to manage that.

Potter pretty much had the Roll down except with the speed at which his broom spun, it became unsteady as soon as he took his hand off the handle. He was forced to abandon reaching for the snitch to steady the broom or risk crashing altogether.

Draco was rounding the last corner around the bleachers into the pitch when he spotted Potter.

Instead of the usual figure in the air zipping around, he was greeted by a rather large cloud of dust as Potter skidded to a violent stop at the other end of the field.

Draco broke into a run.

"Potter? God damn it, Potter! What the fuck happened?"

The only answer he received was a soft groan and hitched breathing.

Suddenly, Draco found his own ability to breathe constricted. He knelt next to the sprawled brunette and tentatively touched his shoulder.

"Harry?"

Green eyes blinked and squinted up at him. "I think I broke something."

Draco sighed as he gently slid an arm under Potter's shoulders. "Of course you did. When have you ever taken the fucking time to listen to reason enough to make sure that didn't fucking happen? Just because some idiotic wanker invents new Quidditch moves, that is not an invitation for you to rush to try and perfect their execution."

The breath in Draco's chest kept hitching in strange ways, and he told himself it was because of the insane run he'd just concluded and had nothing to do with the wizard currently holding on to his robes.

Potter gave a strangled laugh as his ribs no doubt protested his new position.

Draco ruthlessly quelled the thrill of pleasure that shot through him when he took comfort by resting his forehead against Draco's temple.

"You're fucked in the head. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

Harry's breath hitched again as he tried to straighten, and he gingerly placed his hand over his ribs. "Okay, recess. No more moving around for now."

"Potter. We need to get you to Pomfrey."

"Just.. Just gimme a minute. Something's actually poking me in the side here and that can't be good.."

Draco tried to tamp down on his almost overwhelming need to just cast a body bind and haul Potter off to the infirmary. Potter would never forgive him. More than anything else, he hated being treated like an invalid, and he hadn't point blank refused to go - which boded well as these things went.

There was certainly no one who could actually talk Potter into going in for a checkup when he'd convinced himself that he was fine.

Draco snorted softly as he waited for the brunette to catch his breath. At least he wasn't claiming that he was fine this time. There was nothing fine about him.

Well, unless you counted his gorgeous, golden looks. Or his laugh. That was very fine indeed. Or his eyes. Or his toned torso. The side of which was currently pressed against Draco's chest as he held the brunette steady. That fine, fine, chiseled, glorious tribute to all things delectable. Draco's mouth watered as he imagined running his tongue all over that-

He forcibly wrenched his thoughts away from their current progression before they manifested in the physical world. From Potter's current position there wasn't much he could mistake a sudden bulge in Draco's robes for. He contemplated the comfortable silence as a possible distraction from impending embarrassment.

Of course, the reason why Draco was so comfortable in the silences around Potter could be because he was perfectly content to stare at him these days.

Stare at him and come up with new wank material.

He hadn't come up with anything new higher than an 8 in almost a week now. Of course, back when he'd started rating his fantasies on the Malfoy Wank-Fest scale all scenarios that included Potter would be rated a 10. He'd raised his standards a bit since .. not the least of which he'd had to do when he found that somewhere along the way Potter had managed to snag the exclusivity for starring roles in his wank-tasies.

Draco shook his head to clear it of the images that tried to rise to the surface unbidden. Now wasn't the time. "Is recess over yet, or am I going to be stuck here much longer?"

Potter woofed a laugh, and then slid his arm around Draco's shoulders. "You're going to have to do most of the heavy lifting. I don't think it's a good idea to bend over at the moment."

Draco swallowed at the images of Potter bending over.. ' _Not the time!_ '

"Right. Let's get you sorted. On the count of three then.."

 

* * *

 

 

The tantrum Madam Pomfrey had thrown this time had been impressive - even by her standards. Grinning ruefully, Harry unzipped his trousers and wriggled carefully as he worked them down his hips. He couldn't really blame her - he ended up in the hospital wing enough without adding to those trips when it wasn't strictly necessary.

"Here. I've got the potions, and for Merlin's sake, would you-"

Harry looked up where Malfoy had just walked around the privacy screens Madam Pomfrey had set up around his bed.

"Oh good, Malfoy. Help me out with these stupid pajamas, would you? Madam Pomfrey's insisting I stay overnight, and there's no way I'm getting out of these clothes on my own."

Harry wriggled again as he shoved at his jeans while trying to remain upright and not put any pressure on the ribs he'd so recently had taped up. He glanced towards the blonde who still hadn't moved from near the screens. "Malfoy? A little help here..."

Abruptly Malfoy walked over and set the potions he was carrying on the side table with a rattle.

"Thanks. Ron usually helps out when I've managed to do myself in ..." Harry trailed off as Malfoy suddenly grabbed his shoes and yanked them off. He then grabbed the hems of his jean legs and gave them a sharp jerk as he took a step back.

Harry tried to keep the grimace off his face. He wasn't exactly in a position to be able to complain about Malfoy being too rough. He'd probably be in a lot more pain if he was attempting to change on his own.

"Here." He picked up the pajama bottoms from next to him on the bed. "Um.. If you just hold the legs steady, I can step into them."

Malfoy jerked the bottoms from his hand, hesitated for a second and then knelt on one knee, swiftly pulling each of Harry's feet through the appropriate leg.

Something in Harry's gut clenched as he looked down at the bowed head of hair that gleamed in the Infirmary's harsh lighting. Incongruous as it was with his current condition, the sight suddenly struck him as unbearably erotic. Heat started to pool in his belly as his thoughts started to detour towards all the other things that Malfoy's current position would make possible.

"Up, Potter."

The harsh edge in Malfoy's voice derailed his thoughts.

Harry blushed as he put one hand on Malfoy's shoulder and pushed himself into a standing position.

The pajama bottoms were hauled up in a no nonsense manner but a groan still slipped out as Harry felt the fleeting brush of knuckles on his thighs.

Grey eyes suddenly snapped up to meet his as the hands stilled at his waist.

"Sorry. Maybe you should have taken the Pain Reliever before we tried this?"

Harry just nodded. He couldn't think of another way to explain that groan without giving away more than he was comfortable with.

He wasn't sure he wanted to be thinking the things that had been plaguing him in his moments away from sanity lately - let alone articulating them.

The hands that helped him remove his T-shirt were much gentler.

 

* * *

 

 

"Leave it. I'm not putting that on. I'll just have to remove it in the morning again."

Draco swallowed and moved the pajama top and the rest of Potter's clothes to the visitor's chair.

Potter exhaled slowly as he lowered himself to lie down in the bed. “Right. So much for not doing any more time in the Hospital Wing. I swear, one of these days Madam Pomfrey is going to get so fed up she’ll toss me out without even asking what I’ve managed to do to myself.”

“Considering the regularity of your visits, that’s a distinct possibility, Mr. Potter.” The matron swished around the privacy curtains and stood waving her wand over Potter’s torso. His very naked torso.

Draco tore his eyes away and focused on Pomfrey instead.

Though she was wearing one of her sternest scolding expressions, her eyes were soft as they looked at Potter.

Draco scoffed inwardly. Of course she had a soft spot for Potter. Who didn’t? Pretty much everyone Draco knew looked at Potter with adoration, so why not the Dragon of the Infirmary?

She handed Potter two vials from the side table and waited until he downed each with a grimace, then pulled up his sheets and dimmed the overhead lights.

Draco felt a pang as that splendid chest was hidden from sight.

“Rest now, Mr. Potter. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t try leaving here until you have been told to do so.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Madam Pomfrey.”

She gave a rather unladylike snort and turned to Draco, curious but not hostile, like so many others involved in the War were. “You can come visit tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy. Harry needs his rest now.”

Draco just nodded and then headed out. He paused at the door once to glance back. Potter’s lids were drooping as he wuffled a little and smiled sleepily at Pomfrey as she fussed some more.

Pansy had been right about at least one thing. It certainly wasn’t dull with the Gryffindorks around…

 

* * *

  

When Draco got back to the Common Room, he found the rest of the Golden Trio just starting to wonder what Potter had gotten up to.

He casually strolled by the couches where they were sitting. "He's in the Hospital Wing again." Draco smirked.

"What? Malfoy, I warned you! If you've-"

"Please," Draco interrupted, waving a negligent hand. "I had nothing to do with it." ' _This time._ ' "Quidditch accident."

Weasley frowned. "Yeah right. Harry-"

Draco smirked as he interrupted again. "Was attempting a Bromski Roll."

Weasley's eyes widened. "Did he make it?"

Granger smacked him in the arm. "Ron! Harry's in the Hospital Wing, and you're worried if he managed the stunt that put him there in the first place? Honestly!"

"But this is huge 'Mione. It would be major if Harry's managed it."

Granger gave an exasperated sigh and stood up. “Never mind. Let’s go see how much damage he’s done this time.”

Draco thought about telling them that Pomfrey had said visitors tomorrow, and that Potter was most likely asleep already, then bit his tongue.

He wasn’t in a sharing mood, and he’d said all he was willing to say anyway.

Any more would mean admitting he had hung around to check on Potter rather than hoofing it as soon as he’d dumped Potter’s ass at the Infirmary. And he wasn’t ready for a public examination of his reasons for that just yet.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Draco thought about visiting Potter in the Hospital Wing, but each time changed his mind.

Potter was no doubt surrounded by his adoring public, and Draco would merely be in the way. Not to mention fodder for gossip considering the public history of the two. Draco hadn’t mentioned the daily meetings out in the Quidditch pitch, and for whatever reason, Potter hadn’t mentioned them to anyone either.

Of course, his reasons probably had more to do with not wanting to be nagged and scolded for risking his neck to try and knock himself into an exhausted stupor at the end of the day, and very little to do with thinking about the meetings as a secret shared between them. The thought made warmth wriggle in his gut. Another thing he was studiously ignoring these days.

Draco sighed as he rubbed his eyes. There were rather a lot of things he was studiously ignoring these days. And exhaustion from lack of sleep wasn’t helping his cause any.

Someone dropped into the seat next to his. Draco blinked blearily up at Goyle for a second, then gave him a half smile. “What’s up, Goyle?”

Goyle hesitated, then extended the parchment he was holding in his hand. “You got a minute, Dray? Only there’s this one thing I can’t figure out for Charms.”

Draco accepted the parchment but raised his eyebrows.

Goyle shrugged self-consciously. “Harry usually helps. Except he’s in the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey kicked me out.”

“You went to see him?” The question slipped out before Draco could school his tongue. Of course Goyle went to see Potter. They were friends, and there was no reason for Goyle to have to hide that fact. It was probably expected that Goyle would go visit Potter.

“Uh huh. The essay’s due tomorrow, and Harry said that he would help no matter where he was or what he was doing. He made me promise to find him and at least ask if there was something left over from when we worked in the library.”

Draco smiled at the earnest expression on Goyle’s face. No doubt that promise was the only reason he had even thought to bother Potter in the Infirmary. He wasn’t the type to presume. “Sure. No problem. What do you need?”

Half an hour later, Draco was impressed with Potter in spite of himself. Again. A rather distressing state of affairs that had been occurring more often than Draco was comfortable with. But there was no denying it. Potter had somehow managed to not just tutor Goyle, but had taught him the basics of studying itself.

As stupid as that sounded, it was really rather brilliant. Rather than just telling Goyle what the problem with his work was and how to fix it, Potter had apparently been showing Goyle how to catch his own mistakes and how to go about locating the information that would help him fix them.

Which meant that rather than ask Draco for a quick fix, Goyle outlined, rather accurately, where he was getting stuck and asked Draco to point him in the direction that would help him find a way to fix the problem rather just asking for the correct answers.

It was genius in its simplicity. As many times, and as willingly as the Slytherins had helped Goyle with his schoolwork over the years, it hadn’t occurred to them to share how they had arrived at the correct conclusions. Had they done that, they wouldn’t just be helping with one assignment, they would have been showing Goyle how to arrive at the same conclusions on his own.

As Draco watched Goyle flip through the indexes on several texts, another question slipped past his unruly tongue. “How is he?”

Goyle blinked, then his brow cleared. “Harry? He’s good. Madam Pomfrey said he’s doing _as well as can be expected_.” Goyle grinned. “He’s not allowed to sit up though.”

Draco frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Goyle just shook his head. “It was funny. Madam Pomfrey put a sticking charm on the bed ‘cause Harry kept trying to sit up and that puts pressure on his ribs. Now he can only raise his head a little to drink, and that’s it. Harry was not happy.”

Draco hesitated, not sure what he wanted to ask exactly.

Goyle reached out and placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Dray. Madam Pomfrey said that he’s more likely to recover faster this way than if she gives him _free reign of the Infirmary_.”

Draco smiled a little as he heard the quotation marks in Goyle speech and turned back to his own homework.

He still wasn’t completely satisfied, but he’d figure it out later.

After he was done with his essay.

It wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Draco asked himself for the hundredth time what he thought he was doing sneaking into the Infirmary in the dead of night.

After his usual wandering, rather than head towards the Owlery he’d found himself drifting towards the Hospital Wing without consciously having thought about it.

Now he peeked through the door only to realize that Potter must be behind the privacy screen at the end of the ward. He started to withdraw, the hinges of the door squeaked and he froze.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The voice was soft but unmistakably Potter. Draco started to pull out of the Infirmary again and the door squeaked again. ‘ _The fuck-?_ ’

“Please. Is anyone here?”

Draco frowned.

There was a pleading edge to Potter’s voice that didn’t sit well with him. Potter wasn’t the kind to plead. He was more likely to make demands than plead.

Without really thinking about it, Draco stepped into the Infirmary and gently closed the door behind him.

He strode across the ward on silent feet – living in a house full of psychotic, paranoid, jumpy Death Eaters could teach stealth like no other real life lesson could.

He hesitated at the curtained screens, then slipped around them.

Potter’s eyes were fixed on him, his head bent at an awkward angle to look in his direction, almost as if he’d known someone was there despite how quiet Draco had been.

“Malfoy.” Potter gave a sigh that sounded almost relieved and dropped his head back to his pillow, starring at the canopy.

Draco moved closer so Potter would be able to see him without cramping his neck. “Disappointed? I can alert the fan club if you want.”

Potter blinked then and glanced in his direction. “You know what’s scary is that there actually _is_ a fan club here?” He snorted.

Draco’s lips quirked without his permission.

“Sit, since you’re here anyway. I don’t think Madam Pomfrey should wake if we keep it quiet.”

Draco remained standing, studying Potter as he looked back at him, debating the wisdom of sticking around.

And then Potter smiled at him, with his whole face, and just like that, the decision was made.

Draco dropped into the chair at Potter’s bedside, noticing it was already angled so Potter wouldn’t have to crane his neck.

“Honestly, I’m quite glad it’s you. I was expecting any number of Death Eaters while I lie here helplessly.”

Draco stiffened and his left arm twitched involuntarily.

As small as the movement had been, Potter noticed.

He snorted. “Okay, my bad. Death Eaters who’re likely to want me dead.”

Draco glared. “And you don’t think that includes me?”

“Not just at this moment, no.” Potter sighed with his whole body then, chest heaving, limbs twitching. “Did you know Madam Pomfrey stuck me to the bed and took away my wand? I haven’t felt this helpless in a very long time.”

Suddenly Draco’s skin crawled as he heard what Potter hadn’t said.

He imagined being in the Infirmary, alone, at night, injured, without his wand, and unable to take cover or hide or defend himself should intruders show up.

Draco’s own heartbeat picked up at the sheer horror of the situation. If Pomfrey had wanted Potter to rest, that was the worst possible way to go about it. War instincts didn’t go away just because the War was ‘officially’ over. Potter was probably more strung up now than he had been when in the middle of battle, because there he had control, had a chance to defend himself.

Without realizing he was going to, Draco raised his wand and released the sticking charm.

Potter gave him a sharp glance. “Malfoy, what-” He interrupted himself and pushed up into a sitting position.

Potter blinked at him for a second, “Oh.” A slow smile began to grow in his eyes, lighting up his face, spreading until it felt like even Draco was enveloped in the warmth of that smile.

Potter swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, swaying a little.

Draco jumped up and grabbed his elbow to steady him. The last thing he needed was an unexplained bruise in the morning. “Potter!” He hissed. “Don’t make me regret this; get back in the fucking bed.”

Potter turned that smile back towards him, and he blinked in its glow a little. “I will. I just want to get the feeling back in my legs and arms.”

He shifted from foot to foot, flexing his knees and rotating his ankles in turn. But he didn’t break Draco’s hold on his arm, so Draco stood as patiently as he was able.

In all honesty, he couldn’t really blame Potter for his actions since he understood completely where he was coming from.

For a long time, mobility was the first thing Draco ensured when he woke in the morning as well. It was habit borne of never knowing how fast he would need to move to avoid pain and possible injury.

It had gotten better since he’d come back to Hogwarts. He trusted the wards he’d put on his bedroom door, and he trusted Blaise to have similar instincts.

Between them, the room was as secure as possible, and Draco no longer went from deep sleep to instant alertness in the mornings. Or at least not always.

Potter finally stopped bending his arms and wrists and moved back towards the bed. Here he paused and lowered himself to sit slowly. Draco returned to his own seat when it no longer looked like Potter was about to fall over.

“Ribs still bothering you, huh?”

Potter grimaced. “Apparently I managed to shatter one of them rather than just a clean break. Something about the angle at which the broom jabbed me when I hit the ground.”

Draco nodded but remained silent as he watched Potter lower himself back to the bed.

Once prone, he exhaled and seemed to melt right into the bed as he relaxed.

Draco had been right. Potter’s entire body had been strung up from the forced confinement earlier, and now it was as if all the stress had left at once, leaving him boneless.

Draco picked up his wand and swept it in a circular motion, setting up a ward around the curtained area that would blare bloody murder if anyone with evil intent to its focus touched it.

As the ward flared blue briefly before settling into place, Potter smiled. He would have recognized the ward.

It wasn’t common exactly, but one of those that were hard to detect and hence more useful when you were on the run. Draco would have been sorely disappointed in Granger’s abilities if she hadn’t taught this one to Potter and Weasel.

“Sleep, Potter. I’ll keep the monsters from getting you.”

Potter turned his head to look at him, and this time his smile was sleepy as his eyelids drooped behind the glasses. “Night.”

Draco shook his head as he settled more comfortably into his chair.

Potter had to have been fighting whatever potions he’d been doused with to have slipped into sleep this easily.

Some days he wondered if anyone really knew Potter at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco blinked awake as the chime of his alarm sounded inside his head.

It was a trick he’d learned when he wanted to wake without alerting others that he was conscious. These days he used it to make sure he didn’t get caught out of his bed when he fell asleep without realizing it.

Straightening his spine and stretching to get the kinks out of his shoulders and neck, Draco studied Potter where he was sprawled. He had one hand under his pillow, as if reaching for his wand, the other hand flat on his chest, his head turned towards Draco, the way it had been when he’d fallen asleep, his glasses still perched on his nose, no doubt digging into the side of his head.

Draco had thought about removing them as he’d sat staring earlier, but then figured Potter probably wanted his eyesight in the absence of his wand, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to startle him by moving too close when he wasn’t expecting it.

He had no doubt Potter would wake in a flash when approached, no matter how deeply he appeared to be sleeping. He knew he himself would have.

Time to go, before Pomfrey bustled in and caught him here.

Draco hesitated, then decided to leave the ward in place. It couldn’t hurt, and no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it.

Besides, he’d promised Potter. Sort of.

 

* * *

  

Harry blinked awake as he felt someone moving towards his bed.

He shifted to orient towards them while attempting to shake the sleep from his mind. He hadn’t slept this deeply and this well in a long time.

He scooted and sat up a little when he realized it was Madam Pomfrey moving towards him.

She paused to see him sitting up, and Harry winced as he realized that maybe he shouldn’t be. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain it, and a quick glance confirmed that Malfoy had left already.

Then Madam Pomfrey smiled and moved forward. “Feeling better I see.”

_‘Huh?’_

She chuckled at his expression. “The sticking charm was designed to release you as soon as your ribs had knitted enough to be able to take the strain of sitting up again.”

‘ _Ah.’_ Harry hesitated, then just nodded. Anything that got him out of the Hospital Wing faster was to be seen as a blessing really.

He smiled gratefully when Madam Pomfrey handed him his wand back and held on to it at his side while she did her check up. It was a relief to have it back.

She frowned a little as she looked at whatever her magic was telling her about his ribs, and Harry held his breath to see if he had his freedom, or if he would be stuck here another night.

Finally, she nodded to herself slowly and looked back at Harry. “Well, young man. It appears you’re fit enough to be let out for the moment.”

Harry whooped. “Fighting fit!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” her tone was dry. “And I’m letting you out only on one condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yes. No flying whatsoever for the rest of the week.”

“But-”

“No, Mr. Potter. I know you better than that. Those are your choices. Either you spend a couple more nights here where I can keep an eye on you, or else you surrender your broom before I let you out those doors.”

Harry’s face twisted as he tried to choose between two equally horrific sounding choices.

In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice at all really.

Without his broom, he probably wouldn’t be sleeping as often, but that was something he could deal with.

What he couldn’t deal with was spending another night in the Hospital Wing like the one he had been having before Malfoy had wandered in. And who knew if Malfoy would be feeling magnanimous again.

He groaned but agreed to owl Ron to bring his broom with him when he came to see him before breakfast.

Harry took it as a sign of the special place he occupied in Ron’s life that he would prioritize him above breakfast, and the thought finally made him smile.

 

* * *

  

“They let you out already?”

Draco was only half surprised to find Potter brooding next to the lake. He had most people wrapped around his little finger after all.

“Yeah, but they grounded me instead.” Potter gave a wry smile at Draco’s raised eyebrow. “Madam Pomfrey took my broom away until next week. It was the only way she’d let me out of the Hospital Wing.”

“Smart woman.” Draco hesitated, then abandoned the path and took a seat a couple of feet from where Potter was sprawled.

They sat watching the wind create waves on the lake’s surface for a bit.

“Thanks for the other night, by the way. I meant to say but never got the chance.”

Draco shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude. He still wasn’t sure why he had. It had just been that the thought of finding himself in a similar predicament had been almost intolerable so he’d found himself acting before his thoughts caught up with him.

Potter twisted to look at him properly for the first time since he’d arrived, and offered him a grin. “And for the warding. It was still there in the morning.”

Draco shrugged again. “Somebody had to make sure the monsters under your bed didn’t get you.” The words were mocking, but Draco kept his tone light. For one thing, he wasn’t in the mood for fighting. For another, fearing persecution while you slept hit too close to home for him to really ever make fun of Potter in earnest for it.

“Yeah well, thanks. Blaise said I could modify the Pauorem ward to follow me around as the focus if I wanted. Useful but a bit flashy, no?”

“Blaise?”

“Yeah. We’ve been working on Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Draco was silent for a moment, thinking about Blaise and Potter working together. Not that he didn’t know that already. It just wasn’t something that had completely registered as such. They were friends. They had to be if Blaise was tolerating Potter calling him by his first name.

“I just figured that if you recognized the ward it was probably 'cause Granger had researched it.”

Potter’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, ‘Mione knows the ward. She was the one who taught it to me. But her greatest wish in life is to research _everything_. Which means that she’s not as focused on any one subject. Blaise and I have made it our mission to out-research her in Defence. It irritates her every time we mention something and she can’t immediately reference it. It might be one of the reasons I’ve stuck with it for this long.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “A little malicious for Saint Potter, don’t you think?”

Potter scoffed. “Oh please. You have to enjoy the little things in life. And wheedling ‘Mione in harmless ways where she can’t disapprove is one of the pleasures of life. It’s one of the reasons I regularly ‘volunteer’ in the kitchens.”

“Why would that irritate her? And what the hell do you mean ‘volunteer’?”

“She can’t disapprove because clearly I’m doing something to ‘help’ the house elves. At the same time, she suspects that I go there to skiv off when I want to hide given that the elves are more likely to be ‘helping’ me rather than the other way around.”

Draco laughed in spite of himself, and Potter grinned back.

“So what do you do to irritate the Weasel?”

Potter gave him a sharp look but let the epithet go. “Ron’s not really built like that. He doesn’t get easily irritated. Comes from growing up with brothers whose mission in life was to get under his skin. If Ron’s upset about something then there really is something very wrong.” Potter thought about it for a minute. “What about Pansy? What irritates her?”

Draco snorted. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Pretty much.”

“Come on. That’s a cop-out answer. You have to be more specific.”

“She schedules her eating,” Draco blurted, then abruptly shut his mouth. Pansy might just slaughter him if she found out he’d been blathering about her eating habits to someone she considered ‘fit’.

Potter snorted. “Schedules her eating? What does that even mean? And for fuck’s sake, why?”

Draco hesitated. ‘ _Well, fuck it. It’s not like he’s likely to tell her._ ’ “It’s her diet therapy, and she hates it when we tempt her off-schedule. In order to remain svelte, she can’t binge eat sweets the way she wants to, so she designates days when she’s allowed to binge on certain things. Ice cream, pancakes, chocolate, fudge brownies. Especially fudge brownies. They’re the secret weapon we use when she’s especially mad.”

Potter was clutching his side and gasping while he laughed. “Oh that is priceless. I must remember to eat brownies in front of her on one of her unscheduled days.” He dragged air into his lungs and settled after a minute, a grin plastered across his face. “Although, honestly, I don’t know why she has to worry about something like that in the first place. That girl could eat brownies for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a month and still not lose her figure.”

An ugly emotion rather close to jealousy curled through Draco’s gut, but he forced himself not to react. “Didn’t think she was your type.”

“Please. I may not be interested, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind either. That girl can sizzle when she makes an effort.”

The frisson in Draco’s gut writhed again, and he tried suppressing it forcefully, though it was harder this time.

Although that comment would at least guarantee his immunity from the wrath of Pansy if this conversation ever came up.

They lapsed back into silence before Potter sighed and sat up with a grimace.

“I better go. I promised Ron and ‘Mione I’d spend some down time with them considering we always seem to be doing other things these days.”

“You schedule these things?”

“Kinda being forced to at the moment. What with school work and ‘Mione’s prefect duties and their couple time and my flying we haven’t spent any time together just the three of us.”

Draco stood up as well and dusted off his robes, falling into step with Potter as they slowly headed back to the castle. For some reason Draco was in no hurry to get back just yet.

He glanced at Potter askance as he watched him skip every third step as they walked. “Seriously, Potter? Skipping?”

Potter jogged ahead then turned around to walk backwards, grinning as he maintained the step-step-skip pattern. “What? I’m happy and I know it. Clap your hands.”

“You’re disgustingly cheerful, Potter. It can’t be healthy.”

Potter laughed as he skipped again. “You know what that means, don’t you? You’re not doing your job keeping me miserable, Malfoy.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort when Potter tripped over a stone behind him and pitched backwards. Without thinking, Draco lunged and grabbed him around the waist. Pulling to steady him, Draco suddenly found himself with an armful of Potter, staring straight into his eyes, body flush against his own, his breath short as if he’d just run across the Quidditch pitch again.

Potter really did have some of the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

At this distance, Draco could make out the ring of emerald that darkened towards the centre in his irises. Without his permission his body swayed forward and their lips met. What felt like a jolt of lightning went through him, making his fingertips tingle.

Draco's eyelids were fluttering as they tried to fall shut when he registered the widening eyes he had been admiring not so long ago.

Abruptly brought back to earth, he pulled back and winced at the shocked look on Potter's face.

He shoved, dislodging Potter and scrambled backwards. "I gotta go." He heard Potter dragging air into his lungs noisily behind him.

"Malfoy! Wait!"

Draco didn't look around, half running as he followed the path back around the lake.

Probably also the reason he had no warning when he was tackled from behind.

They rolled once as they hit the leaf strewn ground, Draco trying desperately to untangle his legs from his robe.

Potter was having none of it.

He was unceremoniously flipped over, and Potter crawled up his body to straddle his waist, one hand planted firmly on his chest to hold him down.

Draco turned his head away and closed his stinging eyes. This was one time he didn't want to see the blow coming when the fist met his face.

A minute passed, filled with nothing but their breathing.

Puzzled, Draco opened one eye to peek, wondering what Potter was waiting for.

Potter's face was completely blank as he sat there, one hand in the middle of Draco's chest and the other held against his side at a strange angle. Draco opened his eyes fully and looked at Potter, studying his eyes intently.

"Wha-" Draco cleared his throat as his voice broke. "I mean-" Draco interrupted himself again as Potter's face broke out into a rather wicked smile. Suddenly, it was like the light filtering through the trees was catching his face differently, illuminating different angles, making it look alive, making his eyes glitter.

Draco swallowed, his breath short as he watched the transformation. This was the real Potter: raw, no reserve, no masks. But as gloriously gorgeous as this Potter was, he was also dangerous. Whenever Potter had this particular gleam in his eyes, Draco had never been able to predict what Potter would do next.

As he discovered a very short time later, this time was no exception.

 

* * *

  

Harry tried getting his breathing under control, if for no other reason than to reduce the stinging in his ribs whenever he breathed too deeply.

What he'd told Madam Pomfrey aside, they really weren't quite ready for roughhousing just yet.

Though the pain made it clear that this was really happening. He wasn't just dreaming.

He sat smiling, as he watched Malfoy.

Wide grey eyes watching him warily, a brush of pink across his cheeks, his hair mussed with leaves caught in the strands, chest heaving as he tried to even out his own breathing. He'd never looked better.

There was a small fountain of joy starting to bubble up inside of Harry and he suppressed the urge to laugh madly, though he couldn't stop the smile that was currently pasted on his face.

He planted his other hand on Malfoy's chest as well and used both for support as he lowered himself carefully, mindful of his ribs.

When he was close enough to feel Malfoy's breath huffing across his face, he paused to study the wide grey eyes watching him. The mixture of shock, lust and pleasure he saw vying for dominance was encouraging.

Moving even more slowly, he leaned forward and fitted his lips against the slightly open ones under him in an open mouthed kiss. He tasted the lips and moved back to watch the blown pupils and emotions flitting across Malfoy's face, too rapidly to read. But then Harry didn't really need to know every single thought that was going through Malfoy's head right this instance. He could wait.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three heartbeat.

All of a sudden Malfoy's hands were clutching his biceps, and he was arching upwards to capture Harry's lips.

This time the kiss wasn't as sweet.

Harry gladly gave himself up to it, opening his mouth to give Malfoy access, his tongue meeting Malfoy's when it darted out.

Harry deepened the kiss as he felt hands wandering from his biceps to his shoulders, down his arms again, around his waist, up his back, clutching the cloth there. Harry reveled in the electricity being generated everywhere his body was being touched.

Without warning, Malfoy surged upwards, clutching Harry to him so that he ended up straddling his lap.

Involuntarily, Harry broke off the kiss and gasped as his ribs protested the sudden movement.

Malfoy's brow furrowed. "Potter?" He started to move away but Harry clenched his fingers in the fabric of Malfoy's robes.

"Ribs recess," he gasped out, and Malfoy froze in place.

Harry smiled a little and planted another open-mouthed kiss on Malfoy's already swollen lips before going back to breathing shallowly in short gasps.

They sat like that for a bit, Harry straddling Malfoy's lap, his fingers tangled in the lapels of Malfoy's robes, Malfoy's fingers bunching the back his jumper, their foreheads together as their breaths mingled, watching each other and half smiling.

Their lips met again, eyes fluttering closed, otherwise frozen to avoid jolting Harry's ribs.

Harry sighed into Malfoy's mouth as the kiss deepened.

It was just as he'd imagined it.

It was better.

It was perfect.

 

* * *

 

Review y'all? xD

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

After what seemed like ages of utter bliss, they parted, coming up for breath. Harry sighed and opened his eyes to see Malfoy starring back at him with glazed grey eyes. He smiled. Couldn’t help himself. Then winced when his ribs twinged as he tried to move backwards off Malfoy’s lap.

Malfoy sighed and let go of his jumper, smoothing his hands down his back. “You’re an idiot, Potter. Seriously. You’re meant to be resting those ribs, not tricking the Mediwitch into letting you out early.”

Harry grinned and tried not to arch into the touch. Stretching of any kind was out for the moment. More importantly, he didn’t want to alert Malfoy into stopping what felt like unconscious movement of hands running up and down his back. “Come now, Malfoy. There’d be no more snogging and wrestling if I were more careful with my ribs.”

The berk _blushed_. “Yeah, well. You’re still an idiot.”

Harry swallowed the laugh he wanted to give. Malfoy was _cute_ when he got flustered. Who knew!

Harry edged backwards again, a little more cautiously. Malfoy scrambled to his feet as soon as his legs were free, then offered his hands. Harry smiled and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He tightened his hold when Malfoy made to let go though. He looked up at him, startled.

“Hi.”

 

* * *

 

Draco snorted. “Hello to you too, Potter.”

He tried to free his hands again but Potter held on. Draco shifted on his feet. He didn’t know what Potter wanted from him and that was making him nervous.

Potter took a step closer and kissed him once before leaning back, grinning at him. Draco stared at him, wondering where this was going.

“So, you in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Stick around then. Come on, we can go to the Quidditch pitch and make fun of the Ravenclaw tryouts.”

“I thought you had Granger and the Weasel waiting for you.”

Potter hesitated, then made a face. “Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Okay, tomorrow. When’re you free?”

Draco stared at Potter for a minute, wondering if he was hallucinating or if Potter really was arranging a ... _date_ ... for lack of a better word. But he continued to stare at Draco with that earnest expression and the soft smile in his eyes didn’t go away. “Umm, I don’t have any classes after lunch.”

“Excellent. How about we meet for lunch? I’ll raid the kitchens, and we’ll have a picnic.”

“Umm...”

“Come on, Malfoy. You’re more likely to not be in the Great Hall for lunch these days. No one will notice if you’re missing tomorrow as well, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Draco hadn’t actually gotten that far in his thinking. The entire situation was surreal. Here he was arranging a lunch date with Potter ... and there really wasn’t any better way to describe it. And not ten minutes ago all of this was as far from possible as it was to get. Practically in the realm of Potter being the next Dark Lord – which really made you wonder.

“O-k, I guess.”

Potter either didn’t hear the reluctance in Draco’s voice, or was choosing to blithely ignore it. “Excellent! Entrance Hall after your last class finishes for the day?”

Draco nodded mutely.

Potter grinned, gave his hands a squeeze and finally let go. “You coming in now? I’m running a little behind.”

Draco shook his whirling head. “I think I’ll stick around for a bit.”

Potter nodded, took a step away, then whirled around and grabbed Draco by the nape of his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Draco swallowed his almost-moan as the kiss continued for long moments. His knees were a little shaky as he watched Potter take off for the castle, skipping every third step.

 

* * *

 

Harry was whistling as he entered the Eighth Year Common Room. He looked around for Ron and Hermione and spotted her stepping off the stairs that led to the girl’s dorms.

“Harry! Oh good, I was afraid I would be the last one to arrive and Ron would never let me live it down.”

Harry laughed, took two steps towards her, gathered her up into his arms, bulky, pokey books and all, and twirled her around and around.

Hermione squealed. “Harry! Put me down.”

Harry laughed again, then set her down on her feet, holding on to one elbow to make sure she kept her balance.

“Well. It’s nice to see you so happy, Harry. Can I ask why the sudden overflow of exuberance?”

Harry flopped into a couch by the fireplace. “What? Can’t the sight of one of my bestest friends make me deliriously happy?”

Hermione cocked one eyebrow at him.

Harry waggled his in return and grinned at her. “And just FYI, Ron still isn’t here. Which means you can nag him about being late all you want once he gets here.”

Hermione huffed and took a seat opposite him. “I do not _nag_ , Harry. It’s just good for you boys to be reminded of the important things once in a while.”

“Evidence to the contrary, your honor: Incident one: Breakfast. Incident two...”

“Alright already. That’s quite enough of that.”

“Mind you, I’m listing just the incidents that occurred as of this morning. I don’t think we could adequately list every incident of nagging behavior.”

“Yeah, well, judge rules: Not guilty.”

Harry guffawed as the portrait hole behind him burst open and Ron piled in.

“I know, I know! I’m late! But you had to see this. It wasn’t to be missed. The Ravenclaw tryouts were a _fiasco_!”

“Ronald, you take entirely too much pleasure in other people’s pain.”

Ron pouted at her as he flopped down next to Harry. “ _I_ didn’t put all three of the Ravenclaw chasers in the Infirmary mid-season.” He grinned. “I didn’t even _arrange_ for it to happen in my absence. That was just a freak accident. I mean, how do _three_ players end up getting unseated by _one_ bludger? When it wasn’t even a match!”

Hermione just shook her head, so Ron turned towards Harry. “No seriously. It was mad. Practically the whole school turned up to see the tryouts too. I was hoping you’d be there, Harry. I couldn’t find you when me and the boys were headed out.”

Harry smiled at Ron. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I was out by the lake.” He shot a glance at Hermione. “Brooding, as our ‘Mione is wont to say.”

Hermione just shook her head and gave him a squinty look. “Well, you seem happy enough now, so no harm done, I guess. Now what are we going to do with our ‘scheduled fun-having’, as our Harry is wont to say.”

“Raid the kitchen!”

“Honestly, Ron. You would think that was a given with you part of the plan. Is there anything else you had in mind? Harry?”

“Ron’s right. Let’s go to the kitchen and see what all they have. Especially ask them what our options would be if we wanted to have a picnic.”

Ron jumped up with a grin. “Good man! Let’s go, go, go then.”

Hermione laughed involuntarily, then laid aside her books with a sigh. “I suppose I’m not allowed to bring reading material on this expedition?”

Harry grinned as he linked his arms with her on one side and Ron on the other. “You assume correctly my dear.”

 

* * *

 

 

Draco didn’t move from where he was lying on his bed, staring at his canopy when the door banged open. Pansy was the only one who couldn’t seem to grasp that if she shoved too hard the door was liable to bang against the wall behind it. Either that or she just liked making an entrance.

“Draco! Where the fuck have you been? You weren’t at lunch – _again_!”

Draco grunted as he was unceremoniously shoved aside and Pansy flopped down, copying his position. “Well? The fuck’s so interesting about the curtains?”

“Potter kissed me.”

“ _WHAT?”_ Pansy shot straight up in bed, her voice in the range for a strangling squirrel. Then she whipped around and glared at Draco. “TELL ME _everything_!”

“Well. I kind-of, sort-of... kissed him. Then I ran away.”

“Draco! Why would you run away? I thought you said _he_ kissed _you_?”

“He did. That was after.”

He got thumped on the chest for his trouble. “ _Draco_! Do _not_ make me drag the details out of you or so help me...”

Draco huffed. “It was a mistake, okay!”

Pansy bit her lip, looking a little worried now. “Dray...” Then she sighed. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“He was going to fall, so I caught him.” Pansy’s eyes narrowed a little, but she didn’t interrupt. “And then it just kind of happened. I mean, I didn’t mean to kiss him, I just ... he was there and I... Well, never mind. So, when my brain caught up with me, I tried running away... but this is Potter we’re talking about. He can never let things _go_. So he came after me. And then he kissed me.”

There was silence for a bit after this rather rambling account. Draco snuck a glance at Pansy. She was back to biting her lip, her brows furrowed.

“What?”

Pansy just looked at him, not saying anything. Draco knew what that meant: He wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

He sighed. “Pans. Just say whatever you’re thinking. You always do so I’ll get to hear it sooner or later...”

Pansy thumped him in the chest again, but it wasn’t as hard as it could have been.

“Well, okay, he kissed you. So that’s good, right?”

“It is not! It’s unnatural is what it is!”

“Draco, honestly. We’ve been over this. Would it be so bad?”

“Pans. What in hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just think about it. And let’s be specific. We’ll make a list.”

Draco sighed and tried to derail this train of thought. “Pans...”

“Shush! You are going to listen to me, Draco Malfoy, so help me...!”

“Fine, fine. Just get the fuck on with it.”

He wondered when his life would have fewer moments where he was resigned to the inevitable. Then he snorted mentally as Pansy settled and started counting off her fingers. Probably when he changed the people who he hung out with: most of the company he kept at the moment was strong-willed and stubborn, and now more than ever, not afraid to exercise the freedom to air their opinions unreservedly. He supposed he had a problem on his hands then, because he thought he would honestly not be able to offer anything but scorn to someone who wasn’t as strong-willed and unbridled as the people he called his friends at the moment. Would put a bit of a damper on the friendship and companionship front.

“Draco! Pay attention!”

Draco sighed and grinned a little. Right. Time to meet some more of the inevitable. “Course, Pans.”

“Right. One. Power. Potter has plenty of that. There isn’t anyone else in the world right now whose say-so holds more weight than Potter just right at this moment. I mean, sure he’s completely idiotic about not using the power he has, but should he choose to wield that power, he would be a very good person to have in your corner. And then there’s magical power. He has to have that. He defeated the Dark Lord, for fuck’s sake!”

Draco snorted. “Also something he has no idea how to wield properly.”

Pansy hummed a little. “I’m not so sure about that. I just think he doesn’t like attention so he holds his cards close to his chest.”

Draco gave her a skeptical look.

“Come on, Dray. Considering the way most of the public salivates over anything Potter, he could have been milking this for all he’s worth. He could have made a fortune from the copyrights alone. Instead he chose to hide here at Hogwarts until ‘things settle down’.” She scoffed at McGonagall’s words from the Welcome Feast. “As if they ever would when you’re the Vanquisher.”

Draco grinned. No one could sneer as well as Pansy when she made an effort.

“That’s another thing. Potter’s loaded. He could have made a fortune, but he doesn’t need it 'cause he already has a fortune. At least you’ll know he’s not after you for your money.”

Draco suppressed a groan. “Damn it, Pans-”

“Let me finish! I saved the best for last.” She paused dramatically and waited for Draco to wave her on. “Four! He’s one of the fittest lads here.”

“Are you serious, Pans?”

“Yes! Have you seen that boy lately? He’s Quidditch fit with all that golden skin; makes you want to eat him alive.”

Draco squirmed a little, considering how close his own thoughts had been to what was giving Pansy that dreamy look at the moment.

“Honestly, Dray, you know I’m no fan of the sport, but some days I want to build a shrine to the person who invented it for what it does to the bodies of fit lads.”

He sighed. If he let Pansy get started on all that was fit about Quidditch lads, they would be here for a while. “It’s all moot, Pans. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What’s that?”

“Potter has to like me back for any of your nutso fantasies to come true.”

“Pish! It’s you. Of course he’s going to love you!”

Draco gave her a shove, his cheeks warm.

“Draco. Come on. You’re _allowed_ to have good things happen to you! And you said he kissed you, didn’t he? _Didn’t he_?”

“Yes,” Draco mumbled.

“Well, there you go. He likes you.” Draco didn’t say anything and Pansy sighed in exasperation. “Okay, answer me this: what did he do after?”

“What?”

“He chased after you. He kissed you. Then what? He laughed and ran away? Danced a jig? Blamed you for everything and said he never wanted to see you ever again?”

Some days Draco really despised the fact that Pansy knew him and, by extension, his thoughts so well. “No,” he mumbled this time.

“Well? What _did_ he do?”

Draco sighed. “He asked me to hang out. And then he remembered that he had a date with Granger and the Weasel, so he asked if I wanted to have a _picnic lunch_ with him tomorrow.” His cheeks were red by the time he finished. He wondered at the silence following that statement – Pansy was rarely caught without a firm opinion on something. He cleared his throat uncomfortably when he saw her wide eyes. “What?”

“Draco, the boy sounds smitten. Clearly I was right all along and he had a crush on you and he finally found a chance to do something about it. You should have listened to me.”

“Panssss,” Draco whined.

She swatted his arm. “What? _What_ is so terrible about this scenario? Potter actually _chased_ after you. He didn’t make fun of you. He didn’t mock. He actually stuck around and asked you on a _date_. How is any of that a bad thing?”

“It’s not a date!”

Pansy just scowled and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Fine. So maybe it’s a date.” He was back to mumbling.

“Dray. You know me. I’m not a fan of Potter.”

Draco snorted but didn’t say anything.

“But just this once, I think you should give him a chance.”

“Pans. What if it’s all just a joke?”

Pansy sighed, then lay down next to him again, tucking her head into his shoulder and hugging him around the waist. “Dray, honestly, I don’t think it is. It’s Potter, _Golden Boy_. He’s into public declarations of love and peace to all.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “I think this’d be a bit cruel for him if it is a joke.”

Draco hugged her back while they thought about that for a minute.

“Besides, if I thought he was setting you up for something like this, I’d be out there ripping off his balls and feeding them to him, one gonad at a time, rather than sitting here with you.”

Draco shuddered. The terrific yet terrifying part of that declaration was that he knew she meant every word.

The door opened, then slammed shut as Blaise kicked it behind him, shedding book bag, robes, shoes, tie, and random bits of parchment on the way to his bed. He stopped abruptly when he saw Draco and Pansy snuggled together, watching his entrance. His face carefully blank, he raised one eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”

Draco snorted. “ _Yes_.”

Pansy rolled her eyes at him then beamed at Blaise. “Draco has a date! Guess with who!”

For some reason, Blaise’s shoulders tensed up some more as he eyed the way Draco and Pansy were wrapped around each other. Draco’s brows rose at this reaction, then his grin turned wicked as he pulled Pansy closer and hugged her tighter while studying Blaise more closely.

“Well?” Pansy’s voice was taking on an impatient whine. “Guess!”

Blaise finally unfroze and turned his back on them, fussing with something on his bed. “I give up, Pans.”

Pansy scowled and sat up. “You’re no fun, Blaise! Come on, guess! I’ll even give you a hint: I was right all along!”

Draco shook his head as he heard her voice turn gleefully smug at the end there. She was going to be insufferable, he just knew it.

Blaise finally turned back around with a frown on his face. “Right about what?”

“About who has a crush on Draco!”

“Pans! We don’t know that!”

“He asked you out on a date after snogging the living daylights out of you! How much more proof do you want?”

“It’s not a date!!”

Before Pansy could get out the no doubt scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, Blaise collected his jaw from the floor and decided to wade in. “No way. No fucking way are the two of you talking about what I think you’re talking about.”

Pansy turned back to him gleefully, rubbing her hands together. “Oh, yes, we are. I was right!”

Blaise abruptly sat down on his bed. “Well fuck me six ways to Sunday. Was not expecting that.”

Pansy scoffed at this. “Please. This is Potter of the Dinner Time Declarations. _Why_ weren’t you expecting something like this? _Especially_ after I pointed it out for all you sludgy brained ones.”

Blaise shook his head again then grinned at Pansy. “Well, you did tell us.” Then he glanced at Draco. “What’s the rest of the Golden Trio think of all this, then? What’s Goyle think for that matter?”

Draco groaned. “No idea. On both counts. I haven’t spoken to Goyle yet, and I have no idea if Potter’s planning on telling the Terrible Two. I sure as fuck am not going to.”

“Wait. He _snogged_ you? And he still has all of his teeth?”

“What? He took me by surprise.”

Pansy snorted, but didn’t say anything.

Blaise’s smile turned wicked. “So is he any good?”

Draco groaned. “I am not talking about this anymore.”

Pansy shoved his shoulder. “Oh come on, Dray. That’s a valid question. Besides, I’ve always wondered.”

“You have?” Blaise was no longer smiling.

“Duh. He’s _Potter_ and therefore automatically an idiot. Doesn’t mean he’s not drool-on-yourself, wet-your-panties hot. Especially when he comes out fresh from after practice showers, all dripping and golden.”

Draco swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, and Blaise looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. He debated between mentioning his own earlier conversation with Potter against giving Pansy more reasons to drool over Potter. He didn’t really completely understand his need to not have Pansy eyeing Potter like he was eye-candy so the need to torment Blaise won out.

“Actually, Potter thinks you’re hot.”

“ _What?_ ” Draco swallowed a laugh at the pinched look on Blaise’s face.

Pansy was blinking at him. “He does?”

“His exact words were ‘that girl can sizzle when she makes an effort’.” It cost Draco something to get the words out but it was worth it to see the look on Blaise’s face. Maybe even for the one on Pansy’s face. She was wearing a soft smile, a genuine one, and there was just the slightest hint of wonder to it. Draco could relate. It was similar to what had been making his head spin when Potter had first kissed him. And then continued to do so, without hesitation, for a good long while after that.

Pans blinked and snapped out of it, though the smile didn’t leave her face. “Well. Just goes to show, all evidence to the contrary, he’s got _some_ taste.”

Blaise was staring at the smile too, then his eyes narrowed as he caught the half-smirk on Draco’s face. “How were you even talking about this?”

Draco coughed. He _really_ didn’t want to get into the contents of _that_ conversation. Pansy might not be as appreciative. Before he could come up with a good deflection, she suddenly bounced off the bed and headed towards his armoire. “Never mind all that. We have to figure out what you’re going to wear for your date!”

“Pans, it a bloody lunch in the middle of the day, right after class. I am not getting fucking dressed up for it! Especially when it’s _not even a date_!”

As Pansy ignored him and held up different choices of shirts for Blaise to give an opinion on, Draco flopped back on to his bed and gave up. There was no stopping Pansy now that she’d started. But as he watched the chaos starting to erupt around him, he found it strangely comforting. In a way, Pansy was right. If she had even the littlest suspicion that Potter was playing a prank or setting him up for humiliation, there would have been a very different kind of crazy whirling around his room at the moment. So if Potter wasn’t planning on making fun of him, what _was_ he planning on doing?

 

* * *

 

 

“Harry, for God’s sake. _Why_ are you dragging us all over the Hogwarts grounds? The spot by the lake was just fine. We could have eaten there.”

“Yeah, mate. I’m kinda hungry. When you said we could get a picnic from the house elves I thought maybe we’d get to _eat_ it as well. Not just haul it all over the place.”

“Oh shush, Ron. You’re always hungry. And we can’t eat until we find the _perfect_ spot.”

Hermione sighed irritably. “Harry, would you please just tell us what this is all about?”

Harry stopped climbing the hill he had been meandering on, trying to decide which side had the best light and turned to face his friends.

Ron immediately put down the picnic basket the house elves had packed for them and Hermione had her I’m-done-humoring-you look on.

Harry grinned sheepishly. If he didn’t spill the beans now Hermione would honestly get irritated, and he’d wanted to keep them in suspense, not piss them off. “I have a picnic date for tomorrow and I thought we could find the perfect spot for it.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped a little and Ron groaned aloud. “All this for a girl?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she took a good look at Harry’s face. “ _Not_ a girl.”

Harry grinned and nodded.

Hermione squeezed his arm. “Oh Harry, how did this happen?” Then she glanced at Ron’s crestfallen face that they would be postponing eating even more and sighed. “Why don’t we have the picnic right here? We can help you look for the perfect spot later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Draco squirmed as he watched Potter rummage through the basket of goods he’d been lugging with him when he met him in the Entrance Hall. In defiance of Pansy’s orders, he’d made an effort to not dress or look different than he did any other day.

Now looking at Potter’s freshly showered hair, he wondered if maybe he should have at least changed out of the uniform he’d been sweating in all day thinking about this... encounter. Not that he would admit to anything as undignified as sweating over something as insignificant as a... an encounter.

Potter stumbled, clearly not watching where he was going. Draco caught him by the elbow to help him regain his feet and sighed. “Seriously, Potter. Walking in a straight without landing on your ass shouldn’t be such a chore.”

Potter finally looked up from his clearly useless hunt, smiled and stuck out his tongue.

Draco squirmed. He still wasn’t used to that soft-eyed smile being direct at him. It made his guts squiggle in weird ways, and he wasn’t yet completely convinced he liked it. He rolled his eyes, half at himself and half at Potter’s antics. “Where’re we going anyway?”

Potter shrugged his shoulders, trying to resettle his robes where they were slipping off one shoulder and hoisted the hamper higher in his two-handed grip. “The Quidditch pitch, actually.”

“The Quidditch pitch? For a picnic?”

Potter flashed him that smile again. “You’ll see.”

Draco sighed again and decided to leave off, at least for the moment. Clearly Potter wasn’t in the mood to explain. Instead, he nudged him in the side with his hamper as they walked. “Quit your wheezing, will you? It’ll be good!”

“Whatever, Potter. Considering the pace at which you’re moving I’ll probably end up giving up part of my free period as well as my lunch break for this. Not all of us are here to have fun and blow off steam. Some of us need to work for our grades.”

Potter stopped so abruptly Draco had gone a couple of paces before he realized he was walking by himself. Turning around, he caught the strangest expression on Potter’s face. He couldn’t immediately tell what it meant but it made his insides squiggle – definitely not in a good way though.

“You know, Malfoy, it occurs to me that I didn’t actually ask if you wanted to come today. I may even have bullied you into it. I’ve been known to do that.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond to this declaration. Admitting Potter had _bullied_ him into coming today implied a level of control over his actions that he wasn’t comfortable with. On the other hand, he wasn’t ready to admit that he was along on his own initiative either. Potter continued to stare at him as the silence stretched between them, then nodded to himself like he’d just worked something out.

“Right. Well, that settles that. Malfoy, you should know this. I’ll beat you bloody any given day of the week you’re willing to get in a good fight, but I will _never_ force you to do something you don’t completely agree with or haven’t decided for yourself. So I’m going to the Quidditch pitch to have a picnic lunch. You’re welcome to join me if you want; clearly there’s enough food for two. But if you don’t,” Potter shrugged. “That’s fine too. Just remember that it has to be your choice.”

Then Potter marched past him, leaving Draco feeling slightly dazed, the squiggling in his gut approaching something painful. He blinked a couple of times, and when he looked again he saw Potter had covered a lot of distance for someone who was usually coordination challenged when travelling on flat ground.

Now what?

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Draco blinked at the shriek and focused on the person standing over him. Pansy, hands on her hips, a rather ugly scowl on her face. Then she hissed and hauled him towards the dorm stairs with a painful grip on his elbow, away from the curious eyes of the students just returning from lunch.

Blaise and Goyle hesitated, then decided to stay where they were rather than follow.

Draco glanced at them over his shoulder and mouthed ‘traitors’ before he was whipped out of sight around the curve in the stairwell.

Once in his room, he was unceremoniously unhanded and faced with a livid Pansy. “Well? What did he do?”

Draco hesitated, not sure how to phrase what had actually happened.

Pansy gasped. “He didn’t show? That bastard! That complete and utter scum on a manticore’s tit! He’s going to wish he-“

“No, Pans. He came. Brought a hamper bigger than him too.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “Then what? There is no way you finished up eating this early and managed to get back before lunch period is even over. At the rate you eat we would have been in the Great Hall for another twenty minutes at least!”

Draco grimaced a little. This was a familiar complaint of Pansy’s – that Draco liked to take his time eating and always seemed to be the last one to clear his plate. Then he sighed. Confession time, and he wasn’t sure he was really in the mood for some of Pansy’s scolding.

“He gave me a choice.”

Pansy’s frowned harder. “What, like an ultimatum?”

“No. More...” Draco coughed, then decided the hell with it. “I may or may not have complained about having to give up my free period and lunch hour, so Potter said that I should only come for lunch if I really wanted to.”

“That sounds dangerously close to an ultimatum.”

Draco shook his head. “He wasn’t mad. More... I don’t know. I couldn’t read his face. But he was more worried that he might have bullied me into agreeing to come than asking. As if he could! But apparently giving me the choice about coming to lunch made him feel better about not making me do something I hadn’t decided on for myself.”

When he glanced back at Pansy she was staring at him with an expression rather close to the one that had been on Potter’s face not forty odd minutes before. He didn’t know what it meant when she was wearing it either, but her voice was softer than he’d heard since they’d come back to Hogwarts when she spoke next. “Draco, what’re you doing here?”

“I didn’t know if I wanted to go after that, did I?! If I went, Potter would only think he’d _bullied_ me into it or something. I am not letting him have that kind of power over me!”

Pansy opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head and gave him a sudden, fierce hug, holding on until Draco got over his surprise and hugged her back. He’d been expecting scoldings and admonishments to stop being moronic and go after Potter. Not this soft, serious Pansy that lived behind the mask of the brash, iron-willed ball-buster and made it completely worth putting up with her craziness on the rare occasion that they got to see her.

She gave his shoulders a final squeeze, then moved back and towards the dorm door.

“What, you’re not going to tell me to go after him? No opinion at all?”

She paused halfway out the door and looked him in the eye. “Draco, what do you think it means to have a choice?”

Then she left, closing the door behind her.

Draco stared at the space where she’d been standing then shook his head in frustration.

He’d half been counting on Pansy yelling and _making_ him go for his own good when she found him in the common room after he’d come back. It was half why he’d been lounging around downstairs rather than brooding in his room.

Then Draco paused, Pansy’s parting shot echoing in his head. What did it mean to have a choice?

Potter had been emphatic about not making him do anything he hadn’t decided, and apparently, _bizarrely_ , Pansy had decided to honor the choice that Potter had offered him. She normally had no compunctions about ordering people about but in this instance she wasn’t going to _make_ him do anything. If he went to this lunch it would be because he wanted to and not because someone had pressured him into it.

As Draco sat on his bed, his gaze fell on his broomstick leaning against one corner of the room. It really was good weather for Quidditch, and the Quidditch Pitch should be lit up by the perfect blend of light and shade as clouds raced across the sun.

Pansy’s voice echoed in his head. _You’re allowed to have good things happen to you._

His heart pounding much harder than just having decided to go to a picnic should have warranted, Draco also decided against traipsing all the way down the stairs to cross a no-doubt now full common room, and grabbed his broom. That was one advantage of not living in the dungeons that even he had to acknowledge – real, actual windows you could climb out of when you really felt like it.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco made another lap of the Quidditch pitch, feeling strangely hollow. Potter wasn’t here. And honestly, what had he expected anyway? That he could show up an hour later and Potter would still be waiting for him?

He had just turned to go back to the castle, his appetite properly dead, when something small darted past his face, stopped when he did, then came back to hover in front of him.

It was a snitch made entirely of paper, but it didn’t act like a real snitch, just hovering there as if waiting for him.

When he reached out for it, it danced away, though it didn’t go far. Draco followed, curious now. It hovered just within reach, but always danced away when he acted like he might reach for it – almost like it wanted him to follow.

Draco paused as he contemplated the snitch waiting patiently for him. This would be an excellent ruse for someone who meant him harm, if they were trying to lure him away. Because honestly, who suspects origami?

On the other hand, he really wanted to know where it had come from and who had charmed it. Abruptly he decided he would follow the snitch but only as long as they remained safely within the wards of Hogwarts. Any risk beyond that would just be asking for trouble.

He followed the snitch across the Quidditch pitch, moving faster now that they weren’t playing their keep away dance.

It seemed to be headed towards the last turret of the castle that was closest to the Quidditch pitch. It was one of those almost abandoned parts of the castle that had presumably been used as classrooms or living quarters in a different time, but which were rarely visited now by anyone other than house elves. As they came closer, Draco scanned the surrounding area, looking for someone who might be controlling the snitch, but everything appeared deserted.

There was a sharp whistle above him, and when he looked up he found Potter peering over the ledge of an overhang that connected turret to the castle. From here it looked like a thin walkway, probably built to stabilize the turret during high wind. Considering he couldn’t see much of Potter other than his head, it would have to be much broader than first glance suggested.

Flying up, he saw Potter was sitting on a picnic blanket in a patch of sunlight, holding the paper snitch in one hand. He gestured with the other to where the hamper lay open next to him on the blanket.

“Help yourself; everything’s still fresh.”

Draco hesitated, dropped his broom and sat down on the blanket diagonally across from Potter.

Potter hadn’t sounded hostile, but he wasn’t looking at him either. And Draco had left him here for over an hour now without so much as a by your leave.

Draco bit his lip, then decided to worry about everything else later. If the hamper had been packed by the school house elves then the food was likely to be without fault, and he was suddenly hungry again.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry fiddled with the paper snitch he’d charmed earlier as Malfoy helped himself to sandwiches, salad, meat slices and chips. He wanted to give him a chance to eat properly before they started on conversation. He knew Malfoy had skipped breakfast, and there was no need for him to go hungry just because there was no such thing as ‘simple’ conversation between them.

He was absurdly pleased that Malfoy had decided to come after all, and so found himself with an abundance of patience.

It really was very nice up here when the wind was moderate and the sun was out. And as a bonus, they had a clear view of the entire Quidditch pitch laid out below them.

He’d actually found the ledge when he had been flying concentric circles around the pitch and hadn’t wanted to stop just because the strict edge of the pitch had come and gone a couple of circles earlier. From most angles, it honestly looked too thin to land on. Now it had become a place he came regularly to think.

Traipsing around for the perfect picnic spot yesterday, Ron had half jokingly suggested the Quidditch pitch because his mind had still been on the Ravenclaw tryouts, and Harry had realized that it might just actually be the perfect place.

Once that was settled, he’d enjoyed what Hermione had dubbed their ‘Nature Walk’ around the castle grounds, just chatting and strolling and taking turns finding silly things for each other to do along the way. The expression on Hermione’s face when he’d told her to roll in a pile of leaves had been priceless and still gave Ron giggles when they thought about it. That was the kind of light-hearted banter and bickering he’d been missing for a few weeks now as the term time exams approached and everyone’s schedules intensified. It had been nice to be able to do that and get even Hermione to forget her books because there was _dirt in her hair_. Harry smiled to himself. Hermione rarely acted ‘all girly’ as Ron called it, but it was fun to see how far they could push her in that direction before she did.

“How did you get up here?”

Harry glanced at Malfoy and saw that he was about a quarter of the way through his first helping, but that should have taken the edge off his hunger so it was probably fine to talk. “I flew.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed.” It wasn’t really an actual question.

“Mine’s not the only broom housed in the school you know, and those in possession of theirs would be grateful if the great Harry Potter borrowed it for a little while.”

“Right. With all that so-called choice, you decided on a Cleansweep Five?”

“I decided to bestow the honor of allowing me their broom on the First Years flying lesson broom shed.”

“Of course you did.”

They fell silent as Malfoy ate some more, then put down his sandwich half way through a bite. “About earlier, I-”

Harry cut him off. “No worries. Choice, remember?” He waited until Malfoy nodded, then opened up a butterbeer and handed it to him. “So. Quidditch, the weather, art, music, poetry.” Malfoy gave him a blank look. “Bad haircuts... I’m just wondering if you have any preferences about what you want to talk about first.”

Malfoy’s eyes lit up as he caught the reference. “Definitely bad haircuts. Let’s start with yours. What is up with that mop anyway? In case someone hasn’t told you yet, messy has been out of vogue for quite some time now.”

Harry laughed and rubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s just always been like this. And trust me, nearly everything anyone could think of has been tried to get it to sit neatly. My aunt shaved it all off once. It grew back over night. She was so mad; I’d never seen her that angry before.”

“Mad? Frustrated, I could see. But why would she be angry? Accidental magic; it happens.”

For half a minute, Harry could do nothing but stare at Malfoy. Then he huffed a laugh. “I keep forgetting that you don’t actually know anything about me.”

Malfoy frowned. “I know plenty.”

“Just more this half of my life though. What you’ve seen at school, what the papers have made up. Somehow they never seem to get things completely right.”

Harry and Malfoy stared at each other for a bit, then Harry sighed and nodded to himself. If he wanted this, whatever it was that was between them, to actually go somewhere, he figured he should probably let Malfoy in on a few key things that were the bedrock of his existence.

“The reason my aunt got mad was because she and my uncle and cousin hate magic. I wasn’t even supposed to know it existed. I actually didn’t know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter. And that, Hagrid had to deliver personally because my uncle kept burning the ones that came with owls.”

Malfoy’s eyes had widened. “That’s absurd! You were a hero in the Wizarding world. Why wouldn’t they tell you about it?”

Harry’s lips quirked. “A hero? Really?”

Malfoy blushed a little but it didn’t detract from his glare. “I meant for the rest of the idiots out there! Now answer the question.”

“I personally think my aunt was jealous of my mum, and that just changed into hate. But for whatever reason, they hate magic. Absolutely loath it. It’s the reason I’ve been called _freak_ most of my life.” Harry snorted. “They didn’t know the half of it of course; that I was going to end up a freak in the Wizarding world as well.”

There was a twisted expression on Malfoy’s face. Almost as if he wanted to reassure Harry that of course he wasn’t a freak, but could also hear how the words would sound inside his head. Right. Time to change the subject to something _much_ less depressing.

 

* * *

 

 

Potter stood up then and walked over to Draco, dropping down so he was perched in his lap without warning.

“Potter, wha-”

“I’ve been wanting to do this again since yesterday.” With that, Draco found himself being kissed thoroughly.

Draco broke the kiss by leaning his neck backwards and keeping one hand on Potter’s chest to keep him from following. “Distraction tactics much, Potter?”

Potter moved back a pace and smiled a little, settling his knees more comfortably. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea.”

_You’re allowed to have good things have to you._

Draco didn’t know if this was a _good_ thing exactly, but it felt that way. And for now he was content to let it. He smirked, reached up to remove Potter’s glasses and lay them to the side. He then yanked Potter forward with a hand in his hair.

He wouldn’t forget what Potter had told him, and there would be time later to pry more details about Potter’s childhood from him.

For now, he gave himself up to the taste, the smell, the _heat_ that was Potter.

Sliding lips and wrestling tongues and grasping hands, everything was much more delicious than he could have imagined it. There was a spark between them; Draco could feel it travelling over his skin and sinking into his chest to rest there as a ball of warmth that they added to and added to as both of them refused to give in first and come up for air. Draco was starting to feel a little lightheaded, and he had to wonder how much of that was from kissing and how much from the oxygen deprivation.

Finally, both of them moved back at the same time, dragging air into their lungs.

They panted for breath together, chests heaving, fingers still not having relinquished their hold, and then Potter leaned forward and pressed an open mouth kiss to Draco's lips. He panted in another breath, then did it again. And again. And again. And Draco matched his rhythm. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Potter shifted forward and clutched Draco closer and tilted his head more to give himself better access to the lips that he was attempting to devour in soft, small nibbles.

Draco arched upwards into the touch, then gasped and pulled back when his erection brushed Potter's. “I-” The words wouldn't come as he tried to swallow against a suddenly dry throat.

Potter stared at him, breath heaving, lips swollen and red and _wet_. Then he brought his hands up to cup Draco's face and leaned forward until they were staring at each other from inches away. Draco swallowed again as his breathing became more irregular. It stopped altogether when Potter brushed against him again, deliberate and watching Draco's reaction all the time, his hands keeping Draco from looking away.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Draco hesitated, then brought his hands up to rest on Potter's waist and closed the distance between them.

Potter submitted immediately, opening his mouth and melting into the embrace, one arm going around his shoulders to press their chests together, the other hand slipping into Draco's hair, scraping his scalp with nails.

Draco wrapped his own arms around Potter's waist and back, pulling him closer. They both gasped as they rubbed against each other, but this time didn't stop the lips moving, tongues licking, teeth nipping. Draco clutched Potter closer, rubbing himself against the heat of Potter's erection purposefully now that he had made the decision. There was so much heat, even through all the layers of clothing that separated them.

The angle was awkward with Potter straddling his lap and Draco wanted _more_. He thought about it for a second, then tightened his hold on Potter and tipped them both sideways, rolling so that he had Potter flat on his back and could more easily add to the delicious friction between their legs. Potter grunted when they hit the ground – those damn ribs – but didn’t break the kiss.

Some part of Draco’s mind was still observing in a detached voice that clearly this couldn’t be happening. It was another one of Draco’s half waking dreams, and any moment now he would be waking up to sticky sheets and a snickering Blaise.

But if this was a dream, it was more vivid than any he’d imagined before it. His dreams had never before made him feel this buzzed, his fingers tingling, the skin on his back where Potter’s hands rested, and clutched, and petted, and kneaded, feeling tight and stretched.

Potter broke the heated kiss with a gasp, reaching up with strong, sure fingers to clutch at his shoulders, then reached further to wrap one arm around his neck, burying his face in the side of Draco’s neck. His hot breath puffed against Draco’s neck with each pant, his lips brushing, lingering.

There was a familiar heat gathering in his gut as he worked towards it in earnest, Potter helping him, pushing back, lifting his legs and wrapping them partially around Draco’s, giving him better access, the rasp and slide of the cloth separating them making the heat pool faster.

A brush against his ear where Potter had buried his face. “Fuck. Almost there.”

A flicker of white-hot pleasure in his gut, wrapping around his spine. Another. And another. Coming faster now, and closer together. Feeding an inferno that Draco could feel gathering heat and force. Almost. There.

Draco wriggled as he slid, and Potter gasped and stiffened, his fingers clutching, body arching, a sputtering wetness spreading across the front of his trousers, seeping into Draco’s.

Draco felt the shuddering body in his arms, the warm moisture seeping through his trousers to meet his throbbing erection, and the inferno ignited, spreading outwards until every part of him shuddered and shook. His hips kept moving until the shift and rasp of cloth hurt his sensitive prick, then he collapsed forward, burying his own face in the crook of Potter’s neck as he got his breath back and the spots swimming in front of his eyes cleared. He wasn’t sure when he’d clenched them shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco blinked his eyes open finally and rolled sideways to get off Potter. The hands that had been drawing random patterns on his back as they both caught their breaths only let him get so far before they clamped down and he found himself lying on his side, face to face with Potter.

He took a moment to study the face staring back at him.

Again, he was struck by the thought that if it hadn’t belonged to _Potter_ , he might have had the urge to admire its symmetry much earlier. Wisps of hair played in the wind as it dried the sweat on Potter’s brow, the sun glinting against long eye lashes shading clear green, green eyes staring back at him, the light in them more than mere sunlight.

The sides of the eyes crinkled and the lips curved upwards softly as a slow smile emerged.

“Hi.”

Draco snorted and wondered if this was going to be a standard greeting after every heavy snogging session. Although he had to admit, this time they’d gone just a tad bit beyond snogging.

The thought occurred to him that maybe he should worry at the speed with which things were moving. Then he mentally shrugged that thought away.

He’d kind-of, sort-of been here already, given the state of his sheets nearly every morning, even if he wasn’t willing to acknowledge it out loud, and Potter was an all or nothing kinda guy; he just didn’t know any other way to be.

Other thoughts about what it meant that Potter was an all or nothing kinda guy tried to intrude, but Draco strangled them to silence and buried them deep in his mind where he wouldn’t have to look at them too closely. If he did, he knew he was liable to panic, and at the very least, Potter wouldn’t react well.

“Hello to you too, Potter.”

There was a smirk on his face but an answering smile in his eyes when Potter’s grin got wider. He shifted to rest his forehead against Draco’s, and Draco grimaced when the cooling mess in their pants pulled at him. “Where’s a wand when you need one?” He muttered.

Potter laughed and whipped his out before Draco could reach for his own. A couple of cleaning charms later, he put away the wand and shifted even closer, lifting one leg to drape it over Draco.

Draco made a face. “Please tell me you are not a cuddler, Potter.” He shuddered. “That is _not_ happening.”

Potter laughed, shifted forward, and wrapped himself around Draco as much as he could in what was unmistakably a hug.

“Ew. Potter! Get off!”

Draco shrugged his shoulders and wriggled to get free. He could have solved the problem with one good shove, but the way his arms were pinned, the only place he could have applied any useful leverage was Potter’s ribs. As much as he wanted out, he wasn’t willing to hurt the berk. Yet. Any more of this _cuddling_ business and he reserved the right to change his mind.

“I’m serious, Potter. Don’t make me hurt you! Off! Get off!”

Potter huffed another laugh as he unwrapped himself from around Draco. “I thought we just did!”

 

* * *

 

 

Harry laughed again as Malfoy groaned and shook his head as he sat up.

There was a tingling feeling in his chest that was making him want to dance and prance and laugh uncontrollable, and it effervesced some more as he gazed at the slightly blurry picture Malfoy made sitting on the picnic blanket. He wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but there was a softness in his eyes that he would have hated to know was there, and his face looked relaxed and at peace like it hadn’t since the beginning of the year.

His fingers twitched as he watched the wind play with strands of Malfoy’s hair, adding to the disarray Harry had left it in from clutching it and running his fingers through it. He wanted to do that now, stroke and pet until its customary order returned, but he didn’t think Malfoy was ready for that just yet.

“Here. Your glasses.”

The world came back into focus enough for him to be able to see the nervous twitches he’d missed earlier. Time to dial the intensity down a little.

“Finish your lunch. I got brownies for desert.”

Malfoy blinked at him. “You did?”

“Em-hmm. Double fudge, chocolate chip brownies. And I’m planning on eating them in the common room tonight after curfew.”

Malfoy abruptly laughed out loud, then picked up his plate to resume eating. “Oh you are cruel, Potter. Pansy’s going to kill me if she finds out I told you.”

“Hmmm… You want some as an emergency supply? You know, just in case she’s had a bad day and things get out of hand?”

“Emergency supply? How many brownies did you get?”

“Please. I’m friends with Ron, who should be a rolling ball of a human being with the way he eats and by some miracle of nature, isn’t. I got enough.”

Malfoy huffed another laugh as he continued to eat in the small, precise bites Harry was used to seeing at the dinner table.

He tilted his face to the sun, then flopped backwards. “I miss Quidditch. This weather is perfect for Quidditch. The Cleansweep’s not much but maybe I can get in a few laps after lunch.”

“You will not.”

Harry’s brows rose to his hairline as he squinted at Malfoy. “Excuse you?”

“I’m serious, Potter. Getting up here probably took two minutes and minimal maneuvering. That’s one thing. But going for laps – and I’ve seen what you mean by _laps_ – when your ribs are still fucked up is asking for trouble.”

“Come on, Malfoy. I’ll probably only be a few minutes... It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh yes, it can be that bad. I’ve seen what happens to you when you fly. You won’t want to come down after _only a few minutes_.”

Harry decided to ignore that and went back to staring into the sun with his eyes closed.

“I’m serious, Potter.”

“You’re starting to repeat yourself, Malfoy.”

There was a soft snarl behind him that made him peek at Malfoy’s face. “Right, that’s it. This is me giving you a choice, and I’ll make it real easy for you. You stay off that broom or I go and tell Madam Pomfrey that you left the Hospital Wing under false pretenses and that she really should keep you there a couple more days because you clearly can’t be trusted.”

Harry gasped and sat up. “Malfoy! That’s cruel and unusual punishment, even for you!”

Malfoy crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, that’s the only kind that seems to have any effect on you.”

Harry’s insides writhed as those words struck home in a way that Malfoy probably hadn’t meant them to. In fact his entire demeanor suggested this was just another one of those barbs they traded habitually, and there was no special significance attached to what should have been a throw away comment.

_Freak_ , echoed inside his head, along with a litany of other things he had been told were being done for his own good and because nothing else had managed to cure the freakishness in him. How he was especially freaky and so the punishment must fit the crime and be as unusual. Other children weren’t freaks and so they didn’t have to be shut in cupboards.

Harry shook his head as he realized Malfoy was staring at him. Probably wondering where his head had wandered off to.

It was just, for some reason he kept wandering off to the Dursleys today. Maybe it was because he kept those thoughts carefully guarded, and they’d chosen to come out today. Avoid any thought long enough and eventually it would spring out and surprise you when you least expected – he should know, he had plenty of things he kept suppressed. It was the only thing that helped him not turn into a hermit and just disappear inside his own head.

Or maybe it was because he had tried to show Malfoy something of himself today, and for him, really the Dursleys were the beginning of that story. Sure, his parents may have come chronologically first, but in the story that made him the person he was today, the Dursleys came first. And from that, his parents’ sacrifice rescued him like an answer to ten years worth of prayers and wishing in the dark with all his might, eyes closed and fists clenched.

Harry gave his head a hard shake; there he went disappearing inside his head again. Very soon, he wouldn’t be fit company for anyone.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco’s scowl slipped as he watched Potter disappear and suddenly found himself alone in his argument about flying.

Potter may have been physically present, but his mind was clearly on something else. Something not entirely pleasant from the looks of it. Draco watched the shadows gathering and pooling in Potter’s eyes with a frown. He wasn’t sure he entirely liked it.

He had always known that Potter carried around his own demons. No one who didn't have their own would have been able to recognize Draco’s as well as Potter had.

But he’d never been confronted by the evidence of them as clearly as he was at the moment.

He watched Potter stare off into the distance, and he watched the look in his eyes. That haunted, almost cringing look in the eyes. Like he wanted to shy away from something but knew it was futile. It was making him feel like he’d swallowed glass precisely because he’d seen that look before, on those who were in pain. And somehow the idea of Potter in that kind of pain made his stomach cramp.

He would have said the movement was involuntary, except something fundamental in him wanted to stop the pain, to bring Potter back. He reached out one hand and gripped Potter’s shoulder, _hard_ , until he looked back at him and his eyes cleared a little.

“Potter. You’re here. Remember?”

The shadows swirled, then receded just a little, their sharpness softening. Potter put his hand over Draco’s, then tilted his head to the side to rest his cheek against it, just for a second. “I know.” He murmured. “I’m here. You’re here.”

Draco wanted to ask what he could do, how he could help. But he didn’t know what those words would sound like when they came from him; he’d never thought he’d be offering them to Potter.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to.

In the same eerie way Potter could sometimes guess at his thoughts – and he _knew_ Potter was no master Legilimens – he understood what Draco wanted to offer.

He scooted over until he was sitting resting against the wall of the castle where it met the walkway, then patted the seat beside him. Draco felt wary now that he was here at this moment – _helping_ – but he went.

Potter arranged himself so that his entire side was pressed into Draco where they sat next to each other, but he stared out at the sky.

“Stay. Eat. I just need some time until this passes.” Potter’s lips quirked into a strange small smile. “Course you should go when you need to. Wouldn’t hold you back like that.”

Draco nodded, and that seemed to satisfy Potter. He hesitated, then decided to do as he’d been told. He’d wanted to offer... something. But until he knew more, this was all he could offer. So he would shut up and sit there for now, and who knew, maybe this actually was helping Potter in some undefined way. Things never _were_ what they seemed with him.

In the end, Draco got to finish his lunch.

He got to taste the brownies, which were excellent, so he made sure to put some aside for Pansy.

He got to sit in silence for some time, his only company the warmth leaning against his side and his own thoughts.

He got to watch the sun put on a spectacular show as it set.

And he got to ensure the Cleansweep was put away without any late night flights taking place.

But he didn’t move to leave until Potter finally sighed, leaned harder against him for one heartbeat, two heartbeat, three, and then moved away.

Draco was quietly glad for the silence of the halls during dinner time as they made their way back to the common room together.

 

* * *

 

 

**Review Now?**


	5. Chapter 5

 

Draco sorted through his quills and watched Potter from across the Common Room while he waited for Blaise so they could start on their Charms homework. Goyle did his with Potter these days and Pansy had a group with a couple of Ravenclaws, so they figured they should start their own little group.

So far, everything appeared to be business as usual with Potter, and he hadn’t seen any evidence of the gloom that had clung to him like a cloak the day before.

He had been watching all day; at breakfast, in classes, in the corridors, and Potter had acted like his normal nauseatingly expansive self.

Which made Draco wonder how often Potter found himself depressed and then had to deal with it, considering how much a part of the routine it appeared to be.

He looked up as Pansy sauntered down the dorm stairs with her book bag, presumably on her way to get started on the exact same Charms essay as him. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her detour towards where Potter was sitting with Granger, flipping pages in an absurdly random manner while she lectured.

"So, Potter. I hear a rumor you think I sizzle."

Draco almost groaned, but he should have expected it really. There was no way Pansy was likely to stay quiet about something like this.

Potter blinked once then gave her a wicked grin. "Why yes, Pansy. I do think you're one of the hottest girls in school. In fact," he rubbed his chin, as if in thought. "I think you're almost as good looking as Hermione."

Draco abruptly swallowed the guffaw that wanted to emerge, pressing his lips tightly together to prevent any sound from escaping. For one thing, laughing like a hyena was undignified. For another, it could get him killed by the Wrath of Pansy if he indulged right this minute.

Pansy's face was twisted as she tried to settle on an expression. On the one hand, she had just been declared one of the hottest girls in school, publically no less, by none other than the Vanquisher. On the other hand, Potter had also said that she was _almost_ as good looking as Granger, not someone she considered good looking on the best of days.

Her voice was a little strangled when she spoke, "That's... nice, Potter."

"Any time, Parkinson."

The two waited until she nodded and walked out, the portrait door snapping to behind her. Then Potter and Granger burst out laughing, and Draco's lips trembled as he tried to hold in the chuckle rattling in his chest.

"Seriously, Harry. One of these days some girl will kill you in your sleep, and then I'll be able to say I told you so."

Potter just grinned, unrepentant. "But 'Mione! I do think you're one of the best looking girls in the school." He chuckled. "Besides, if 'some girl' managed to get that close while I was sleeping, I might let her."

"Harry! That's sexist!"

"Not if you're speaking metaphorically rather than literally, it isn't."

Granger groaned. "That's it, I'm leaving. Besides, if I don't rescue Ron from the Ravenclaw practices now, he may never get any work done."

Potter chuckled again. "Later 'Mione."

His eyes met Draco's as he watched her walk to the portrait hole. They twinkled, laughter springing into them again as he grinned at Draco. Then he winked and went back to flipping pages in a manner that could only have made sense to him.

The warmth in that look stayed with Draco all night.

 

* * *

 

 

One week later, and it awed Harry how willfully blind people could be when they weren’t consciously made to pay attention to something. He hadn't told anyone about the way things had progressed with Malfoy except for Ron and Hermione, and he knew Malfoy wouldn’t have mentioned it except to the obvious candidates. But in all honesty, he was pretty sure that anyone just had to look at him around Malfoy and they would be able to guess.

For one thing, Harry was a bad liar, at least when it came to things which didn't threaten someone's life or his own. And especially things where he didn't give a flying fuck what others thought of him. So just asking him point blank might not have been a bad tack to go with.

For another, there was not saying anything, and then there was lying with your body. Malfoy was pretty skilled at it. As he should be, given the practice he had had over the years. Harry couldn't really begrudge him the ability considering it was probably one of the things that had led to his survival mostly unscathed through the War. But it also meant that he wasn't as likely to give the game away.

Harry, on the other hand... Seriously.

Until very recently he couldn't be in the same breathing space without wanting to pick a fight, and now he was making googly eyes at Malfoy – and no one had noticed.

He knew he was making googly eyes because Ron had expounded on the subject in clear disgust all through dinner when he'd caught him staring at Malfoy _yet again_. The only thing that had shut him up in the end was Harry mentioning that if maybe he made googly eyes himself, Hermione might be persuaded to abandon her school books more often. That at least had given Harry some peace while Ron contemplated the possibilities. Peace that Harry promptly used to continue his surveillance of Malfoy.

Whose only response had been to glare. As if that would make him cease and desist.

It did occur to him that this might just be behavior that people had become used to from him, and because it all fell in the realm of strange they were more likely to dismiss anything happening between Malfoy and him as par for the course.

He was aware that he had watched Malfoy as closely before all the snogging had arrived to make his senses reel, and he had to acknowledge that from the outside it might be a bit hard to judge or understand that the motivations for the same kind of behavior were vastly different this time around.

To be fair, Harry reckoned the professors were probably so relieved that he wasn’t likely to blow up at Malfoy these days that they might not even care why the new peace had been instituted as long as it continued. Besides, it was a well known fact of any given school that the teachers are invariably the last to know with things of this nature. It was practically a law, and he knew of no reason that the teachers might suddenly become more perceptive of teenage angst – especially when concerning two such unlikely candidates.

Harry supposed he should thank his stars for small mercies that no one had noticed and therefore no one had tried to interfere yet. That wouldn't last long once something happened which they couldn't ignore or explain away as Harry being Harry. Like Harry grabbing Malfoy, bending him backwards over the table and snogging the living daylights out of him. He sighed happily at the thought and continued his staring at Malfoy.

 

* * *

 

 

"Potter! Quit it!"

"What?" Harry knew there was a whine in his voice, but he wasn't inclined to care at the moment.

"The staring! It's irritating, having your eyes follow me everywhere."

"It can't be all that irritating... I've been doing it since the beginning of the year."

"Yes, Potter, you have. And it's no less irritating now than it has ever been... It was just counterproductive to call you out on it earlier."

"Why does this bother you so much anyway? It's just staring... I'm allowed to look, aren't I?"

"Because it's _irritating_ having eyes follow you everywhere! It'd be a bit better, if not by much, if you were more subtle about it, but you're as obvious as a bloody hippogriff in a china shop!"

"So you want me to stop?"

"Will you quit acting any more thick than you already are? You're perfectly capable of following when spoken to in simple syntax... YES, I want you to stop!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest his right to stare at whoever and whatever he chose, then paused mid-thought.

In a way, Malfoy had a point.

He was the one who had been doing all the staring and the making of googly eyes, to borrow from Ron's vernacular. He sometimes felt like Malfoy's eyes might be following him when he wasn't looking, but it wasn't often, and he had never been able to catch Malfoy at it for longer than a couple of seconds before Malfoy became distracted by something else and decided to return his whole attention back to where it belonged.

For some reason this realization left a hollow feeling in his chest, and he ducked his head before Malfoy could read it in his face.

"Potter?"

Malfoy was still waiting for an answer, although his voice had turned puzzled rather than the earlier aggressive. Probably wondering where Harry's mind had gone wandering off to. Harry sometimes wondered that himself.

"Fine." It came out more abruptly than he'd intended. "No more staring."

Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "You actually mean that?"

Harry tried to smile, but it came out more grimace. "Well, no promises, Malfoy. Bad habits and all that. So I'll probably stare some of the time. But I bet you can't catch me at it."

This time the smile was a little more convincing; the challenge of only ever staring when Malfoy couldn't catch him was appealing. Well, why not? Even before they became more than enemies, the way they had always worked had been a push and pull of competition between them. Harry was hoping to keep the competitions just a tad bit more healthy this go around.

"I'll see you in class, Malfoy. I'm meant to be meeting Goyle in the library."

With that he turned around and headed off, frowning a little as he always did when in thought. He was going to have to come up with some new hobbies since he was just realizing how much of his time everyday he spent staring at Malfoy and following him around. It was enough that he almost hadn't missed it when Ron and Hermione's focus shifted to each other and they started trying to spend every free moment together. The first few weeks of a new and glorious thing always were the headiest.

Harry shook his head as he turned the corner. The problem was that Ron and Hermione still had each other, glory of a new thing notwithstanding, but he was being made to find a different hobby.

It was hard, but he didn't look back to catch one last glimpse of Malfoy as he went.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco stood and watched Potter until he disappeared out of sight, and then he stood there thinking for a little bit more.

He wondered what that little head shake at the end had meant just as he was going around the corner.

He wondered what the matter with him was that his insides were refusing to settle.

This was what he had wanted, to just make Potter bloody stop _staring_ for once. It was unsettling and disconcerted Draco every time he caught Potter at it. Even when he knew that Potter wasn't planning the next time he was going to yell at Draco or bloody his nose.

The worst part of it all was that Potter didn't even _pretend_ that he wasn't staring. There was nothing covert about it!

But something inside Draco was still squirming at Potter's quick acquiescence. It somehow felt all... _wrong_.

Potter didn't give in. He argued and he fought and he made you want to scream and then he went ahead and did whatever the hell he wanted to in the first place. But Draco had hardly even had to convince him of it at all. And he hadn't looked back as he walked away, not once. He did normally, to make a face or smile or even wink or... something.

That something inside writhed again, more violently this time. The smile that he _had_ gotten from Potter would have been a fair one from anyone but Potter. 

Potter didn't smile with his face, although real smiles did interesting things with his mouth and with the tiny little crinkles about his eyes that his glasses hid. He smiled with his eyes. And all Draco had seen in those eyes a minute ago was almost a representation of the gnarly, twisty thing that was inside him right at the moment, so though it looked about right, it hadn't been a real smile at all.

Draco swung around and headed to the Common Room, abruptly feeling miserable.

Damn Potter anyway. There was no _reason_ for him to be feeling miserable – not when he'd gotten his way!

Draco hadn't figured it all out yet, but he was betting it was Potter's fault.

 

* * *

 

 

As the week progressed, Draco continued to feel miserable and the knots in his gut continued to writhe and tug in strange ways.

Potter was as good as his word, and Draco hadn’t caught him staring even once. Nothing beyond ducking his head when Draco looked in his direction.

Without his consent, Draco was being made to acknowledge that he might miss those inappropriately intense stares. Every time he’d caught that green gaze, they’d always lingered a moment, no matter the level of irritation Draco was feeling at that point, and it had felt like they were sharing a secret. How dare Potter take that away without any warning?

Draco resolutely ignored the fact that he might have been the one responsible for the current state of affairs as he seethed.

“For fuck’s sake, Draco. Would you settle?”

Draco scowled at Pansy.

“Honestly, I liked you better last week when you kept disappearing at odd moments and coming back with just snogged hair. At least there wasn’t all this moody grumbling without saying what in bloody Samhain is bothering you to begin with.”

Draco just crossed his arms and looked away. That was the other thing that was pissing him off.

Because they’d caught each other’s gaze often enough, Potter would just have to tilt his head or raise his eyebrows and they could sneak off when they knew they wouldn’t be missed. Neither of them had had to _say_ anything. And now it had been three days since he’d last snogged Potter, and Draco was emphatically _not happy._

Pansy growled. “Draco, if you do not tell me what your problem is _right this instant_ , I’m going to tie you to a chair and-”

She broke off as the Common Room door smashed open, and the Weasel tripped through it.

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he watched the she-Weasel walk in with Potter, holding something in her arms. She rarely visited the Eight Year rooms, and Draco wanted to know what she thought she was doing here now.

Next to him, Pansy stiffened suddenly. He looked at her questioningly.

“Those are brownies. Fudge brownies! I can smell them from here!”

Draco’s eyes narrowed again as he looked back at where the three Gryffindors had settled.

Now he was thinking about it, what she-Weasel was holding could be a baking tray. She set it down in pride of place on the table next to the hearth and lifted the foil cover. There it was. The chocolaty smell of fresh baked brownies wafting through the room, making more people than just Pansy sit up and take notice.

Potter wouldn’t. That was supposed to be their little joke. And now he was carrying it out without even telling him? And he was letting the Weasel’s deranged little sister help?!! Draco could feel his temperature rising.

He barely paid attention as Pansy clutched his arm. “Draco! They smell really good! We have to find a way to get me some.”

Draco was more concerned with the way Potter was hovering as she-Weasel sectioned the brownie and lifted out a piece for the drooling original Weasel.

He was willing Potter to look at him with his mind, so he could know that they still shared the joke. That wasn’t asking too much. That wasn’t even staring really, it was just looking. ‘ _Turn around. Turn around now. Turn around and look at me.’_

“Draco! Are you even paying attention? Order Potter to give me a piece!”

This was new. “What makes you think he would if I told him to?”

“Well he’s your boy toy or whatever it is that the two of you do in between snogging. You should be able to get one measly piece of brownie from him.”

Draco’s temper frayed some more as Potter _still_ didn’t turn around. Was now in fact helping she-Weasel play host as they handed out pieces to everyone who had gathered around.

His laugh was a bitter thing as he answered Pansy without looking away from the party at the other end of the Common Room. “He’s no nothing of mine, the little traitor.”

Pansy squeezed his arm and gave him a little shake. “ _What_ is the matter with you? Whatever Potter’s done, he’s probably too thick to even know he’s done something wrong. Just go over there and shake some sense into him if you have to.” She then abruptly dropped his arm as Goyle appeared at the dorm stairs. “Greg!” Her brownie hunting had found a more likely target.

Draco was glad. He was still glaring at Potter, fists clenched, willing the Gryffindork to turn around, and every minute that Potter spent smiling and nodding to mindless idiots, was a minute Draco came closer to losing his temper all together. Didn’t he care? It had been three days! _Three_ _days_!

Potter finally accepted a piece for himself, and as he bit into it, his eyes flicked upwards, almost involuntarily, and caught on Draco’s steely glare. They continued to stare at each other as Potter chewed slowly, licking his lips for crumbs. Then the she-Weasel stepped into his line of sight, interrupting the stare, and raised one hand to wipe chocolate from the corner of Potter’s lips.

Draco surged to his feet. He was abruptly angry enough to feel his fingers tingling, all that fury _demanding_ a target.

Pansy materialized in front of him before he could get started on systematically ripping out the she-Weasel bint’s fingers, one at a time. How _dare_ she-

“No, Draco.” Pansy’s voice was low but forceful. “Not here, not like this.”

“Pansy, get out of the way.”

Pansy shifted in place as she heard the deadly serious intent in his voice, but she didn’t move so Draco turned to glare at her.

“Pansy-”

A familiar tan hand with tapered, calloused fingers interrupted before he could get any further, waving between them.

“Hi. I come bearing gifts. Pansy, would you like some brownie?” Potter kept his eyes on Draco even as he addressed Pansy. “It’s double fudge, chocolate chip – fresh out of the oven.”

Pansy took the napkin Potter held out to her with a soft murmur, but didn’t move away.

Draco and Potter stared at each other for a moment. “Quidditch pitch, ten minutes?”

Draco nodded jerkily, then spun around to march up the dorm stairs. He would not be held responsible for his actions if he stayed in the same room as the she-Weasel any longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was pacing impatiently on the walkway by the time Potter appeared and dropped his broom next to Draco’s.

“Malfoy-”

Draco didn’t let him finish, yanking him forward by his collar and pining him in place with a hand in his hair. Potter’s glasses dug into the side of his face as he deepened the bruising kiss, tongue and teeth lashing as all of his pent up frustration found expression.

Potter moaned and seemed to sag, leaning all his weight against Draco, clutching at his arms.

Draco was still angry and he wanted ... something. He just couldn’t figure out what. He hated having this ball of _emotion_ that he’d been carrying around with him for the past few days. It felt like he was waiting for something from Potter but he was damned if he knew what exactly.

He relinquished the hold on Potter’s collar, reached up to yank off the glasses and dropped them carelessly.

“Malfoy.” Potter murmured, one hand sliding down his chest and around him.

In response, Draco bit his lips and deepened the kiss, not letting Potter put any space between them. He pushed, driving Potter backwards until they fetched up again the castle wall. Then he leaned all of his weight against Potter and concentrated on making him pant, feeling him harden against him.

Coming up for air, he bit and licked a trail along his jaw and down his neck until his collar got in the way.

Pinning him in place with his lower body, their throbbing erections pulsing against each other, he moved back just far enough to yank Potter’s t-shirt over his head, then resumed licking and biting the side of his neck.

Potter groaned and growled a little, his head thrown back and one hand yanking at Draco’s hair now.

Draco knew he was probably being too rough, but something in him wanted to mark all that expanse of golden skin. So he bit a little too hard, on the edge of pain, and sucked and nibbled until he was sure that this side of Potter’s neck and shoulder would be mottled with purpling bruises come morning.

Potter yanked harder on his hair, pulling him up for another scorching kiss, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck as he surged and rutted against him.

Draco pushed in an even rhythm so that Potter bumped against the stone wall with each stroke, his grunts and moans swallowed by Draco’s mouth, feeding a need in him, soothing the surging ball of emotion writhing in his chest.

Draco broke the kiss again, retracing all of the tender spots on Potter’s neck and shoulder, then moving lower to lave and bite at first one nipple, then the other. He licked a trail down his chest, outlining his abdominal muscles with his tongue, pressing a kiss to his navel, and lower still where his jeans hug on his slim hips. He traced their edge with his tongue, then trailed an open-mouthed kiss up his flank.

By now Potter was panting and writhing, his hips making little thrusting motions, wanting a return of the friction.

Rising, Draco kissed him again, tongue exploring Potter’s mouth, stroking his teeth and accepted his tongue into his own mouth. He yanked up Potter’s thigh so one leg wrapped around him, pinned him in place, then yanked up the other leg so Potter’s back pressed against the wall and he clung to Draco with his arms.

Panting into Potter’s shoulder, he rubbed against him in earnest now, pushing harder, moving faster, trying to find rhythm that would relieve the tension singing up his spine.

The needy sounds pouring from Potter – whimpers, groans, grunts and moans urging him on, pleading for more – soothed him further, helping him focus, pouring heat through him that seemed to fill up all the empty places.

Potter’s fingers twisted in the material of his shirt, clenching and opening, digging into his shoulders as the pressure and flame built between them.

Draco added a twist to each thrust, moving faster, holding Potter in place with bruising fingers.

“Fuck! Oh...!” Potter gasped and panted, mouthing the side of Draco’s neck, warm wetness staining the front of both their trousers where they were pressed together.

Pressed so close together in fact, Draco could feel Potter’s heartbeat against his chest, one beat off from the thundering of his own heart.

He continued thrusting, milking Potter, working towards relief from the tension that had all his muscles tightening and bunching. He clenched his fingers as Potter tightened his hold by cinching his arms and legs around him, leaning up to trail soft kisses up his neck.

Potter brushed soft fingers over the nape of Draco’s neck, and suddenly he was _there_ , gasping and swearing through his own release.

They stayed liked that, clutching each other as Draco caught his breath, before he moved his head back so he could look Potter in the eye.

Blinking away the dancing spots of light, Draco tightened his hold on Potter’s hips as he slid down the wall a little. “You are to stay the fuck away from the she-Weasel. You hear me, Potter?”

Potter stared back, his expression peaceful, a soft light burning in his eyes though he wasn’t smiling. He tightened his hold where his legs were still wrapped around Draco’s waist, warm cum cooling between them, and stroked Draco’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, brushing away stray strands of hair. “Not someone you need to worry about. That ship sailed a long time ago.” Draco frowned a little at this response, and the smile in Potter’s eyes finally broke out. “Besides, there’s no going back from this.”

He leaned forward and kissed Draco. His legs stayed locked around Draco’s waist, his arms securely around Draco’s neck, this kiss much softer than everything they’d shared so far, just a gentle glide of lips, less urgent, somehow sweeter.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry sighed into the kiss, stroking his fingers up and down the back of Malfoy’s neck. He was particularly responsive to that, and Harry loved playing with his hair when he would let him. As it was, Malfoy had issues with anything that could be considered ‘girly’ or ‘poncy’ or just plain ‘Hufflepuff’.

Harry didn’t mind. It just meant he had to be more sneaky about it, and he took great pleasure in catching Malfoy off-guard with his ‘Gryffindor-ishness’ whenever he could. He had managed to startle a deer caught in headlights look on Malfoy’s face quite a number of times now, and every time had made his chest warm up.

It wasn’t so much the surprise that he looked at Harry with on those occasions; it was just that he momentarily forgot his guarded walls, and Harry got to see the warmth there, tentative yet, but Harry was going to make it his mission that Malfoy learn to trust that warmth. Too often Harry saw him wondering if this was real, whatever this was between them.

Harry hadn’t stuck a label on it yet, and he knew that if he let her, Hermione would be quick to find him one. Harry was resisting because he wanted Malfoy and him to decide together what to call it when they eventually got around to it.

But before then, Malfoy had to learn to trust the warmth, to not always be wondering if it was really meant for him or if he just happened to be the person available to receive it at that time.

Harry’s lips quirked into a smile as they continued the gentle slide of lips, tongues only occasionally meeting now, both of them sated but just simply enjoying themselves too much to stop. He couldn’t help the smile with the frisson of joy that was running through him.

He had seen the look in Malfoy’s eyes when Ginny had reached to wipe chocolate off his face. It had only been reinforced by the edict Malfoy felt he had the right to make. Harry was glad.

The last few days, it had been interesting to play the game, and he didn’t think Malfoy had caught him staring even once before today. But the uncertainty that was the reason that Harry had stopped his staring to begin with had been eating at him.

He was content now, because where Malfoy may not want to acknowledge anything about the warmth through word or action – that he felt it, that it was meant for him, that he had a right to it – that look had proved to Harry that he wanted it regardless. That some part of Malfoy, some part of _Draco_ was there, and he felt the warmth. More, he returned it.

Another frisson of joy ran through him at the thought.

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry shifted in his seat yet again, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t stretch his back, Hermione finally glanced up from her essay and gave him a Look.

“Harry.”

Harry sighed and shrugged. “Sorry, ‘Mione. I’ll settle.”

Several minutes ticked by with nothing but the scratching of quills, then Harry shifted as discretely as he could again. His t-shirt was sticking to his back and felt uncomfortable.

This time Hermione dropped her quill and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Okay. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing, ‘Mione. Just my t-shirt sticking to me. It’s bugging me a little, that’s all.”

Hermione looked at him with her head cocked.

Harry recognized the look. It was the same one she got when she was analyzing and discarding different theories, and he’d had it turned on him too many times before to really be surprised.

Finally she pushed herself up from next to the coffee table where she had spread her books and came towards the table where he was working, diagonally across from her.

“Turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Harry. You’ve never complained about clothes sticking to you before – not even when it’s insanely hot and you’re dripping sweat. And your clothes aren’t really tight enough for that to be a problem. So clearly, if there’s a problem, it’s got something to do with your back. Turn around, please.”

Harry thought about protesting, then gave in with a sigh. He quickly glanced around to make sure the common room was still empty, then pulled his t-shirt over his head. Hermione’s eyebrows rose, but he just shook his head at her and turned around in his chair.

There were two very distinct gasps behind him, and he whipped back around.

Hermione had one hand raised to cover her mouth, but more importantly, he could see Pansy standing behind her with wide eyes, having just stepped down from the dorm stairs. The second gasp had come from her.

“Fuck, Potter. What’d you do? Get mauled by a wild animal?”

Harry grinned abruptly. “You could say that, I guess.”

Hermione had recovered her composure and turned him around with a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. “Harry James Potter, you better not mean that literally!”

Harry snorted. “No, not really, ‘Mione.”

“What _happened_?!” As Harry turned back around to answer, she abruptly held up one hand and jumped to her feet. “Never mind. We fix this first, then you can tell me all about it.” She spun around to head up to her room, no doubt on her way to get the medical kit she had been forced to acquire for just such occasions. At the bottom of the stairwell she paused and turned around to glare at him. “ _Do. Not. Move._ ”

Harry just nodded, used to worried-Hermione.

Pansy snorted as she walked over and perched on the arm of the sofa next to his. “Is that a _hickey_? Sweet Merlin, I should have known.”

Harry’s hand automatically rose to the side of his neck where there was in fact more than one hickey. “We got kind of carried away.”

Pansy snorted again. “We nothing. I didn’t see Draco’s neck decorated like a finger painting gone wrong.”

Harry gave her a wicked grin. “Next time.”

Pansy’s eyes lightened as she grinned back. There were a few seconds of silence, then Pansy sighed. “Seriously though, Potter. What’s up with you this year anyway? You’ve been spending more time in the Hospital Wing than out of it.” She gave him a shrewd look. “And I bet half the time you don’t even make it there or you’d be spending double the time.”

Harry gave her a half-smile. “How do you know it wasn’t the same every year and you’re only noticing now because we’re sharing a dorm?”

Pansy raised one eyebrow at him. “Was it?”

Harry sighed and shifted as his back twinged again. “No, not really. You’d think with Voldemort out of the picture I’d be spending less time there, not more.” He gave Pansy another half-smile as she winced a little at the name.

The portrait hole behind them opened, and Harry made to pull his shirt back on, but Pansy caught at the fabric before he’d gotten it over his head.

“Don’t. You’ll just make it worse.”

As the portrait hole swung shut, he could feel a frigid sort of silence behind him, and he suddenly knew who would be standing there.

Sure enough, when he leaned sideways to peer around the back of his couch, Malfoy was standing next to the entrance, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a flat line.

Harry started to pull his shirt on again, but Pansy still had her fingers twisted in the fabric and shook her head at him when he looked at her.

“He might as well see his handy work.”

Malfoy marched over to the two of them. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow at Harry until he sighed and let her take the t-shirt away. Then he glanced at Malfoy’s rigid stance. “'Mione was just helping me fix something when Pansy walked in.”

Pansy snorted. “Right.”

Malfoy glanced between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on. “Fix what?”

Just then Hermione clattered down the stairs and dropped her kit and a small bowl on the table in front of him, flicking her wand in a casual _augumenti_. She then pulled a potion vial from her bag and added a couple of drops to the water, before dipping a clean rag in it. “Right. Turn around, Harry.”

There was no help for it really, not when Hermione used her bossy tone. Harry sighed and turned around.

Malfoy hissed and grabbed his arm.

Harry peeked up at him, but he was staring at Harry’s back which had been hidden by the back of the couch til now. The look on his face made Harry wonder how bad his back actually looked.

The occasional twinges of pain had been irritating but bearable, so he figured that he’d probably scrapped some of his skin. Judging by the reaction he’d gotten, maybe he should have been paying better attention. He honestly hadn’t felt it was bad enough to warrant all the fuss. Nothing worse than a carpet burn. Being pushed up against rough castle stone while distracted by more interesting activities could do that.

The look on Malfoy’s face made him wonder though. Maybe it looked worse than it actually was. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Right. Hold still, Har. This is going to sting.”

He nodded to let Hermione know he was ready.

He clenched his teeth and pulled air into his lungs through his nose once she started though. The stinging was much worse than he'd been expecting, but he held still. Malfoy’s hand on his arm tightened.

When Harry glanced at him he was staring at his face now, his own face paler than usual. Harry tried to give him a smile, but it wasn’t the easiest thing with his teeth clenched as tight as they were.

Hermione patted the last of the scraps, then wiped up the stray drops that had dripped as she worked. “All done. I’m just going to add some salve, but that shouldn’t feel anything but wet.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his stiff posture. He had to admit it already felt better.

“Potter. You _idiot_. Why didn’t you say?!”

Harry managed a proper smile this time as Hermione dabbed salve across his back. “Honestly, it didn’t register at the time, and it really wasn’t so bad after.”

Malfoy clenched his own teeth, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t let go of Harry’s arm either.

“Right then. Now that the emergency’s been taken care of, I’m off.” Pansy dusted off her hands dramatically and headed out the portrait hole at a pace just this side of too fast.

Hermione just shook her head and started collecting her things together. “All done, Har. You’ll want to leave off the shirt for a bit until that dries, but otherwise we’re good.”

She looked up and raised one eyebrow, eyeing the two boys in front of her.

Malfoy had finally let go of Harry’s arm, if only to allow him to turn back around, but he hadn’t moved far. She could see the white imprint of fingers where he’d been clutching too hard, and he was hovering in an almost hulking posture next to Harry’s seat. ‘ _Interesting. Hmmm..._ ’

“I’m just going to wash up and put away my things, Har. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Harry nodded to Hermione as she headed back to her dorm, leaning forward a little to avoid getting salve on the sofa he was seating in.

As soon as Hermione was out of sight, Malfoy sat down on the table she had been using as her station, a scowl firmly planted on his face. Harry raised his eyebrow and waited.

Getting tired of glaring, Malfoy finally spat out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What, Malfoy?”

“You were hurt, and you never said anything! In fact, that has to have been stinging since _yesterday_! How the fuck did you even get through classes?!”

Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Potter. You utter _imbecile_. Let me explain something to you. No pain is good pain. _It wasn’t so bad_ is not an excuse for not getting your back fixed. You were bleeding, for fuck’s sake!”

Harry blinked. “I was? You would think it would’ve hurt worse in that case.” Harry blinked again when Malfoy let out a short, strangled scream. “What?!”

“You’re missing the entire point here!”

“Come on, Malfoy. I didn’t want to make a fuss when it was something I could handle.”

“What fuss? Was there any fuss? As far as I can tell, you’ve reduced Granger to having her own portable Hospital Wing so there was no _fuss_. She fixed you up in under five minutes. Where is the _fuss_?!”

Harry’s eyebrows rose at the way Malfoy was spitting out the word _fuss_. “And this doesn’t count as fuss?”

“ _This_ wouldn’t be happening if you’d just spoken up when you got hurt.”

Harry sighed. “I can’t keep running to the Hospital Wing with every little thing Malfoy.”

“And no one is asking you to. In fact, just the opposite. Tell the nearest reliable person when something does happen. If you can’t stand Granger’s fastidiousness then tell _me_ , for fuck’s sake. Even _I_ could have dealt with those scraps in under five minutes and you wouldn’t have to walk around like some later-day saint!”

Harry blinked yet again at the vehemence of this speech. Then he smiled, grabbed Malfoy’s hands, yanked him up as he stood, and whirled them both around, pushing Malfoy into the sofa so that they had changed places. Then he climbed up to straddle Malfoy’s lap, one knee on either side of him, hands cradling his face.

“Potter-?! What-?!”

Harry cut him off with a scorching kiss, stopping just before his nether self started to take an interest. He leaned his head against Malfoy’s as they caught their breath, smiling at him.

“I like it when you worry about me.”

Malfoy frowned instantly. “I am not _worrying_ , Potter. Your sheer idiocy is irritating and could no longer be borne in silence.”

Harry smiled and gave him another scorching, breath-stealing kiss to remember him by before he headed up to bed for the day.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry woke up soaked in sweat, tangled in the sheets, the remnants of his nightmare still curling around him, and grateful that Ron was conspicuously absent from his bed yet again.

He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands, shivering as the breeze dried the sweat on his body. Sighing, he got up, grabbed his towel and headed for the showers.

There was no way he was going to go back to sleep after that so he might as well get dressed for the day, though it was only about two in the morning and he’d barely gotten any sleep to begin with.

Warmed by the shower, his thoughts turned to Draco as he pulled on his jumper.

It had been weeks since he’d followed him at night, and he wondered if he was roaming somewhere around the castle tonight. Just because Harry was no longer following him around didn’t mean that his nightmares had stopped.

Making an impromptu decision, he pulled on his sneakers, grabbed the map and his invisibility cloak, and headed to the door. Slipping out of the Common Room, he consulted the map, checking the Owlery first. Sure enough, the dot labeled Draco Malfoy was there, lingering next to the windows.

Putting away the map, Harry strode with sure steps towards the Owlery. Just before entering, he took off his cloak and draped it over his arm. It wasn’t like Malfoy didn’t already know he owned one.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Malfoy jumped and whipped around, wand in hand, then scowled when he realized it was Harry who’d spoken.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Harry shrugged. “Nightmares.”

Malfoy frowned, then turned around to face the inky night again.

Harry carefully placed his cloak on one of the tables placed in the corner for addressing letters before posting, then sidled up to stand next to Malfoy and nudged him with his shoulder. “Want to talk about it?” Malfoy just raised an eyebrow at him. “Come on, it might make you feel better.”

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Harry huffed a laugh, conceding the point. “Not especially, but that’s just me. Sometimes it helps to talk about it though.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything, just turned away. Harry nudged him with his shoulder again.

Malfoy sighed gustily. “Potter...”

“Come on. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. But come sit down at least. Aren’t you tired of just standing here?”

“I am _not_ sitting on this filthy floor.”

“Wasn’t suggesting that you do.”

Malfoy finally turned to look at him again. Harry gestured at the table where he’d left his cloak.

“Potter, tables are meant to be sat _at_ , not _on_.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You have _got_ to see someone about that stick up your arse.”

Malfoy scowled and glared, but Harry grabbed his arm and tugged him over to the table regardless. He cast a cushioning charm on the table, and a localized warming charm. He then hopped up on it, scooting backwards until his back was to the wall, and smiled at Draco, daring him with his eyes.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and heaved another heavy sigh, but he mimicked his movements until they were seated side by side.

“Now what?”

Harry smiled up into the grey eyes staring at him. “Now, nothing. You go back to your brooding, but your neither regions thank me in the morning for having spared them.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows quirked, and Harry grinned to see the wicked thoughts his deliberate phrasing had inspired. If nothing else, Malfoy could always be trusted to pick up innuendo. He nudged him with his shoulder again, but this time stayed leaning against it.

“Potter, _what_ have I said about cuddling?”

Harry snorted. “This is hardly cuddling, Malfoy.” He grinned then, and reaching over an arm, draped it over Malfoy’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his side. “ _This_ is cuddling.”

Malfoy squirmed and shrugged off the hold. “Errgh. Enough of that, Potter.”

Harry took his arm back but looked at Malfoy quizzically. “Tell you what, Malfoy. You agree to one good cuddle, and I’ll give you something in return.”

Malfoy’s face twisted at the idea of a ‘good cuddle’, but he still had to ask. “Like what?”

“Almost anything you care to ask for. It’s up to you, really.” Malfoy fell silent, his brow knitted, as he thought about this. Harry smiled. “You don’t have to come up with something right now. How about we say I’ll owe you one?”

Malfoy looked at him askance, then nodded his head jerkily. “Fine.” His voice was clipped.

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Malfoy gritted his teeth. “If you’ve changed your mind now, Potter, I-”

“Oh no, I haven’t!” Harry got to his feet hurriedly.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?”

“We agreed on a good cuddle. And since you’re clearly a cuddle novice I’m going to have to teach you what it really means. Now scoot forward.”

Malfoy eyed him distrustfully, then finally scooted forward, making enough space for Harry to slip behind him and then slide down to sit with one leg on either side of Malfoy.

Malfoy leaned forward over his knees, feet dangling off the table now, not touching Harry as he glared at him over his shoulder. “The hell, Potter?”

Harry just grinned, leaned forward to wrap his arms around Malfoy’s waist and hauled him backwards until he was snug against his chest. “This, Cuddling Apprentice Malfoy, is the real deal.”

To be honest, Harry was far from what could be called a Cuddle Expert. There were rather a limited number of people he felt comfortable getting this close to, and even then _cuddling_ was never something he could endure for long without fidgeting. But this was something he’d wanted to try with Malfoy for some time now, and if he had to bribe and tease Draco into it – well, that was just Malfoy’s way he supposed.

Now he placed his chin on Malfoy’s shoulder, peeking at him through his fringe, moving his hands up and down his flanks soothingly. “Come on, Malfoy, relax. You have to unwind a little for this to work.”

“What part of uncomfortable don’t you understand, Potter?!”

Harry sighed, Malfoy shivering a little in his arms as his breath tickled his ear. He kissed the side of Malfoy’s jaw before he went back to murmuring to him. “We made a deal, Malfoy. Come on, you’re already here, just... let it happen. Here, I’ll show you how.” He grabbed Malfoy’s arms and placed his hands in his lap. “Now slouch a little. You’re just the tiniest bit taller than I am.” Malfoy smirked, and Harry felt happy to see that familiar expression.

Harry turned Malfoy’s head until it rested on his shoulder, forehead pressed against the side of his neck, then wrapped his arms under his, hugging him to his chest, trying to create a cocoon like he’d once seen on TV when Dudley had forgotten that he was in the same room. Harry pushed away the impending depression that mention of the Dursleys invariably brought on, and inhaled the musky lavender smell that was uniquely Malfoy, resting his chin against his head lightly.

“Potter...” His voice was softer this time.

“Shhhh. You don’t have to say anything. Just... stay.”

Harry hummed a little in contentment when he felt Malfoy’s eyelashes brush the side of his neck as he closed his eyes. It made him happy to see Malfoy relaxing, even if it was by inches.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry lost track of time as he sat there, listening to Draco breath, enjoying the warmth seeping into his limbs.

Somewhere along the way, Malfoy had slipped into sleep as Harry sat staring at the sky. Now he was lying half curled on his side, Harry’s arms firmly holding him upright, with his forehead still resting in the crook of Harry’s shoulder, one hand curled in Harry’s shirt, holding on to him.

Harry himself moved as little as possible – he was sure any movement would wake Malfoy up, and knowing his own track record with sleep, he wanted him to have as long as was possible. Absently he renewed the warming charm around them as he sat gazing at the stars on an exceptionally clear night, enjoying the solid, warm, reassuring weight of Malfoy in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco came awake slowly, swimming upwards from a deep sleep as the chime in his head sounded, alerting him that it was six in the morning and soon the castle would be stirring awake.

He almost dismissed it and went back to sleep, he was so warm and comfortable. Surely, such warmth was only to be found in his bed.

But something nagged at the back of his mind, making his eyes flutter as he tried to wake up some more. He held still, trying to determine what was off.

Truthfully, he felt strangely safe, like if he went to sleep now, he might actually be able to get through the night without waking up violently. There was – a pulse under his ear though. He listened to the heartbeat as he tried to figure out if he was still dreaming. One heartbeat, two heartbeat, three-

Draco’s spine stiffened suddenly as the night before came back to him, and he tried to sit up only to be prevented by the arms still wrapped around him.

“Morning.”

“Potter.” Of course, Potter. Who else?

Without consciously deciding to, Draco relaxed back into the embrace tentatively.

He’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep and actually slept through the night without startling awake repeatedly. Those nights were rare for him, and never happened once he’d woken from the first nightmare. Once he’d started the horror show, it was like his mind couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t see more if he shut his eyes.

And yet here he was. He’d actually fallen asleep and gotten some of the most restful sleep he’d had in ages. With Potter, of all people!

Draco stirred uncomfortably now, wanting to turn away from Potter, not sure what he wanted to see in Potter’s face right this instance, but Potter was refusing to let him go. Finally, he settled for practicality.

“Potter. There’ll be people here soon. It’s early, but not so early that we couldn’t get caught before we make it back to the Common Room.”

“Hmmm.” Potter tightened his hold, squeezing Draco’s ribs once, before slowly, very slowly sliding his hands away.

Draco shivered a little, then turned all the way around so he could peak at Potter’s expression from below his lashes. If he was going to be mocked then he wanted to be ready.

Instead Potter looked like he’d almost forgotten that he wasn’t alone, except his fingers were still absently stroking up and down Draco’s back at intervals. Draco stared more openly now that he didn’t have to look Potter in the eye.

Potter looked – peaceful. There wasn’t any other way that Draco could think to describe his expression to himself.

It wasn’t happiness – he’d seen the light of that shining from his eyes often enough.

It wasn’t a negative emotion either. It was too _quiet_ , barely there in the softness in his eyes, in the slight hint of a curve to his lips, to be described as anything other than peaceful.

A sharp pang went through Draco’s chest. He wondered if he would ever know such serenity. He supposed he must have had it when he was a child; any loved child was born into it. But there wasn’t a time that he could consciously recall being so content to be in the present.

Potter blinked once as his hand slipped into Draco’s hair, smiling when he caught Draco watching him. He leaned forward and gave him a soft, close mouthed kiss. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Draco elbowed Potter as his cheeks reddened, though admittedly it wasn’t as hard a jab as he was capable of. Something in him was rebelling at the idea of destroying the utter serenity he’d caught a glimpse of.

Potter just laughed, tightening his fingers in Draco’s hair to pull a little before letting go. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before someone shows up.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Give me a present, leave a review? ;P**

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a transition of sorts, to show that time passes for our favorite duo, and to give them a chance to explore what they started together.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)
> 
> <3

 

 

Predictably, for the next few days Malfoy avoided Harry like the plague. It was just as hard to locate him as when Harry had been looking for him to pick a fight. But that was alright. If nothing else, his Draco Hunting had taught him patience.

Harry chuckled darkly under his breath at the idea of ‘Draco Hunting’, and then shuddered at the idea that Dudley may have ever contemplated what he was thinking about doing to Malfoy once he caught him.

There. Finally. Malfoy moving around by himself instead of with a troupe of others surrounding him. Harry grinned as he folded up the Marauder’s map and headed out of the dorms.

 

* * *

 

 

The kiss was bruising and hard when it came, punishing in its ferocity. Lips moving against each other, tongue sweeping through Draco’s mouth as he gasped.

Potter lapped at him, stroking again and again, exploring all of his mouth, licking the back of his teeth, battling with his tongue.

Bruising fingers were gripping his hips hard, holding him in place against the wall as Potter plundered his mouth.

Draco groaned and squirmed, trying to shift to get more friction against the aching hard on he was suddenly sporting.

The fingers dug in painfully, holding him in place as Potter forced his mouth open further. And then that fiery heat was traveling along his jaw, as Potter nipped and placed open-mouthed kisses all along his jaw line and down his neck. Suddenly, Potter bit down, hard, on the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

Draco half groaned, half moaned. As painful as it was, the sensations coursing through him as Potter sucked and licked and soothed the abused skin were doing strange things to him. His knees shaky, all he wanted to do then was sink to the floor and just submit. The only thing that was holding him up was the firm grip of fingers at his hips.

The hot mouth sucked and licked some more, then traveled back up his neck, nipped at his ear lobe, then back across his jaw to bite at his bottom lip.

Potter surged forward then, plastering his body against the entire front of Draco’s, from shoulders all the way to the knees, a delicious heat sinking into him everywhere they touched.

Draco groaned at the increased friction and clutched at Potter’s elbows.

The tongue swiped across his lips one last time and then stopped as Potter moved his head back a little, keeping his body in place, holding still.

Both of them panted, trying to catch their breath before Draco slowly opened his eyes to see green ones watching him intently. He didn’t even remember when his eyes had fallen shut.

“Tell me you want this.”

Draco swallowed. “Fuck, Potter.”

Potter leaned more of his weight against him and placed an almost chaste kiss on his lips as he stared at him from inches away. “Tell.” Kiss. “Me.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Want.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss.

Draco keened in response to the teasing. He’d be embarrassed about it later. Right now he couldn’t think straight.

“I-” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I want this.”

There was the briefest flash of a grin and then those lips were back.

Potter flexed his fingers, then moved his hands back around to Draco’s arse and kneaded.

Draco’s legs threatened to give out again.

In response, Potter took a firm grip and hoisted him upwards, Draco’s legs wrapping around him eagerly.

Draco moved his hands up Potter’s biceps and wrapped them around his neck, one hand clutching and bunching his t-shirt at his shoulder and the other buried in soft, messy hair.

Draco keened again, trying to push closer as Potter ground into him, creating friction, their cocks generating heat as they rubbed together.

“Potter!” Draco gasped as they surfaced for air.

In response, Potter buried his face in Draco’s neck, his hot breath huffing against Draco’s sensitive skin with every panted breath, steadied him against the wall, and started rutting in earnest.

Draco’s grip on Potter tightened as heat started pooling in his gut. “I’m close,” he panted.

In response Potter started moving faster, generating even more friction.

Draco’s legs convulsively tensed and loosened as he matched his rhythm as best he could, pushing against the wall for leverage.

Right now, in this moment, with electricity running through his veins and pooling in his gut, he couldn’t figure out why he’d been avoiding Potter. Then as Potter lipped at his neck almost tenderly, lights exploded behind his eyelids, thought scattered and he stopped wondering even that.

 

* * *

 

 

Potter nudged him with his shoulder as he settled in the seat next to Draco.

Draco hummed and continued taking notes.

Potter nudged him again.

"What?" He kept his voice low, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone else in the class, though in all likelihood they were all sleeping anyway. Granger, the Ravenclaws and a chosen few Slytherins were the only ones who ever took notes in Binns’ classes.

Potter nudged his shoulder again, making him smudge his words. He sighed and looked at him, only to find Potter grinning like an idiot. "What, Potter?"

"I missed you."

Draco's cheeks grew warm and he ducked his head. "Potter, you're a sap and an idiot."

"What? I'm serious. Transfiguration was boring without you. I missed you."

"So my only use would have been to whet your academic interest?"

Draco jumped when a hand squeezed his knee under the desk, then he glared at Potter. "Potter!" His voice was a hiss. "What do you think you're doing?"

He squeezed harder when Draco tried to wriggle free.

"Just showing you that academic interest isn't your only use." The grin on Potter's face was positively sinful, and he looked like he was undressing Draco with his eyes.

Draco's cheeks warmed again, and he elbowed Potter in the side. Hard.

"Stop it."

"Easy. Watch those ribs!"

Draco shot him a sharp glance to make sure he hadn't actually hurt his ribs, then rolled his eyes at the exaggerated way Potter was rubbing his flank. Drama.

"Potter, just go to sleep already. That's all you're good for in this class."

Potter huffed a laugh under his breath, then nudged Draco's shoulder again, though gentler this time.

When Draco shot him a look, he just smiled, folded his arms on his desk, put his head down and closed his eyes. He peeked through one eye, saw Draco staring, grinned and then settled down for a nap.

Draco shook his head and went back to his note taking, but there was a fizzle tickling his ribs and warming his chest. ' _I missed you._ ' The thought made his lips curl in an involuntary smile. He hesitated, then softly bumped Potter's shoulder with his, not looking away from his notes.

Potter smiled, but didn't open his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy abandoned her book bag and squeezed into the space between Draco and Blaise. “Well?”

Draco and Blaise exchanged a look, shuffling their texts and scrolls to make room for her. “Well what?”

“ _Is he any good_?”

Draco’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of this non sequitur but the sudden laughter in Blaise’s eyes alerted him that he might want to whip out his poker face right about now. “No idea what you’re talking about, Pans.”

“Oh come on, Draco! It’s time to spill the beans! Hmmm... Points, points... I mean looks, okay. I say eight on a normal day. Nine on a dishy day. Maybe nine and a half when he’s got all that delicious freshly showered bit going on. Honestly, if someone would only enlighten that boy to the wonders of fitted clothing he’d be a distraction just walking down the hall. Blaise, points on looks?”

Draco swallowed past a dry throat and quickly looked around to see who might be in the vicinity in the relatively full common room.

This was not a conversation he wanted overheard – it would honestly be more trouble than it was worth. But trying to get Pansy to hush would probably cause a bigger – more vocal – scene than the off chance that someone was sitting close enough to overhear.

“You’re asking a straight man to rate another guy on the looks scale, Pans?”

“Oh hush, you. Gay, straight, whatever. You’ve got eyes. Now use ‘em and pick a number.”

Draco knew it probably wouldn’t do any good, but... “Pans, seriously. Do we really need to have this conversation?”

Pansy snorted and dug her elbow into his side gently. “Course we do, Draco. If we can do the points bit for passing-fancy floozy types for the rest of us then Potter certain merits a score card. Now come on, seriously. Looks. Pick a number.”

Draco grimaced. He really didn’t want to get into this discussion. Somehow it would be like admitting more than he was comfortable with. Potter was... good looking, he supposed. He knew that. He just...

“Hmmm... Going off the reaction of most of the female population of Hogwarts... Straight man perspective: An eight, I suppose.”

“Draco?” Pansy watched him squirm, then flipped her hair impatiently. “Never mind that. I can see the looks for myself. Technique! Come on, I’ve always wondered, what’s he like?”

“Pans...”

“What? With that gung-ho nature of his, I expect he just _goes_ for it.” Pansy growled low in her throat. “That can be _very_ attractive when done right.”

Draco groaned, then sprang up from his seat. “Right. This conversation is over.”

Pansy made a grab for his arm, but Draco skipped out of reach. “Oh come on, Dray! That’s not fair.” Her voice was rising in volume and others in the common room were starting to notice.

Draco started walking without packing his bag, his things bundled in his arms. The faster he got out of there, the better.

“Draco! You know what this means, don’t you?”

Draco paused just by the portrait hole, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“If you won’t say, I’ll just have to ask him!”

Draco spun around, losing a couple of scrolls in the process. “Don’t you dare, Pans!”

Pansy smirked smugly, crossed her arms and lounged back against Blaise. “Well, why not? It’s not like you’re giving me any of the juicy details.”

Draco’s scowled as he debated staying to argue with her. But honestly, there wasn’t much he could do, and Pansy, her smug smirk firmly in place, knew it.

If he stayed, she would be pestering him for details he wasn’t ready to think about yet, let alone divulge. And if he didn’t give her answers, she would either question Potter or she wouldn’t. There wasn’t much he could do about that either.

Giving it up for a lost cause, he scowled harder, collected his parchment and turned back towards the portrait hole.

Behind him, Blaise spoke up, his tone just as smug as the look on Pansy’s face. “You might want to visit Greenhouse Three while you’re wandering around.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he raised one eyebrow at Blaise, but something about the look on his face said Draco probably shouldn’t ask for details right this second.

He allowed the portrait to swing shut behind him, took a minute to pack his book bag, then headed out towards Greenhouse Three. Now that his essay had been interrupted, he might as well check out what had put that half amused, half teasing look on Blaise’s face.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello?”

“Draco?”

Potter. Of course it was Potter.

Draco sighed inwardly and stepped fully into the Greenhouse.

He couldn’t see Potter but given he’d answered him quickly enough he was probably around here somewhere and had a perfectly ridiculous reason for being out here. He knew for a fact that Potter hadn’t been given any detentions since the last time they’d gotten into a proper dust-up.

A few metres down the main aisle, the fern and shrouds on his right shook before Potter ducked under them and emerged.

Potter, but a Potter like he’d never seen before.

He was dressed in nothing but a pair of ragged jeans, hanging precariously on his hips, garden gloves and a pair of dirty sneakers.

His torso and arms had smudges of dirt on them and dripped with sweat from the mugginess in the greenhouse, his hair plastered to his forehead.

There was a streak of mud across his forehead where he had tried to push back his bangs.

As he straightened up, all that gorgeous muscle gleaming as it shifted under velvety skin, Potter’s face lit up with a ridiculous grin when he spotted Draco.

“Hi!” He moved forward as if to give Draco a hug, then stopped short and glanced down at himself. The grin turned sheepish as he shot Draco an apologetic look.

Draco was having trouble swallowing his drool, as dry as his throat was, and it was a struggle keeping his jaws clenched shut.

“What’re you doing here?”

Draco forcefully removed his eyes from where they were glued to Potter’s chest. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m just helping Madam Sprout move some of her seedlings before the frost sets in. With the expected cold spell, she’s likely to lose part of her crop if they aren’t re-potted today, or latest tomorrow.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “And you volunteered?”

Smile half-rueful, Potter just shrugged. “I may not take NEWT level Herbology, but even I can’t mess up something as simple as re-potting.” He glanced at Draco with a ridiculously hopeful expression. “You want to help?”

“What do I look like, Longbottom?”

There was that half-smile again. “Neville helped earlier, but he has class this period.”

Draco sighed. “Potter, seriously. You may enjoy wallowing in filth but I refuse to get that much dirt on my person.”

Potter own sigh was half mocking, then he smiled at Draco and turned back towards where he’d been working. “Come on then. You can keep me company while I work.” He glanced over his shoulder to offer a wicked grin before he disappeared behind the ferns. “It’ll give you a chance to act snide about my technique.”

Draco jumped at the comment, startled. Coincidence? ‘ _Bloody Pansy._ ’ She had him as jumpy as a first year.

Sighing, he followed Potter to where he was sitting surrounded by rows of seedlings and saplings in individual pouches, waiting to be re-potted.

He cleaned off a table in one corner and spread out his homework, settling in. At least he was guaranteed some peace and quiet.

For one thing, Potter was busy. He tended to hum when he worked with his hands, which was soothing in its own way and unlikely to bother Draco.

For another, he seemed to be weirdly in tune with Draco’s moods and never pushed with awkward questions when Draco would rather he leave well enough alone.

In the end, he spent as much time working as watching the play of muscles along Potter’s shoulder blades, the flexing of his arms and chest, the way his jeans stretched when he crouched, snug against his arse and thighs, the rivulets of sweat as they dribbled down surprisingly chiseled, toned, velvety skin, making his mouth water.

‘ _Ten. Definite ten._ ’

Draco smirked to himself. And if Pansy only knew just how above _adequate_ Potter’s technique was he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have a fight for the brunette on his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry yelped when he found himself being yanked backwards through a classroom door.

Before his wand had cleared its holster though, he was pushed against the closed door and a warm body pressed against his.

He caught a glimpse of Malfoy’s wicked grin and then lips and teeth were ravaging his, and his eyes slid shut without his permission.

He moaned as Malfoy both pulled Harry into himself and pushed him into the wall as he leaned more of his weight all along his length at the same time.

The moan cut off in the middle when someone tried to open the door behind him, both of them freezing in place, staring at each other with wide eyes.

The door nudged Harry’s back again and he pressed against it more firmly, Malfoy letting go of him to press both hands against the door as well.

“Hello? Professor?” The voice was thin and high with anxiety. A young voice.

The knots in Harry’s shoulders loosened.

A student – especially a young one – would be infinitely easier than a professor to deal with.

“Give me a second,” he whispered to Malfoy, then grabbed his book bag from where he’d dropped it, pulling out his Invisibility cloak. He’d taken to carrying it around with him lately. He nodded to Malfoy just before he disappeared under it.

Malfoy adjusted his robes, swept his hair back into place, swung the door open, crossed his arms and stared down at the small boy hopping from foot to foot anxiously. “Yes?”

Harry bit his lip to suppress his giggles. Trust Malfoy to go from mad snogging straight to arrogant condescension.

The boy’s lips were rounded in a perfect o, his eyes huge as he looked up at Malfoy. He couldn’t be older than a second year, if that.

“Oh. Oh, but... I was supposed to meet Professor Flitwick here and... and I didn’t  want to be late and...”

Malfoy didn’t say a word. Just raised one eyebrow and moved out of the way.

The Second Year inched by him warily, then sped up, heading for the desk fartherest from Malfoy.

Harry took the opportunity to slip out of the unobstructed door. If a professor was on his way, Malfoy and he needed to make themselves scarce. And fast.

Malfoy gave the poor kid another look down his nose, grabbed his bag and banged the door of the classroom closed behind him.

A giggle slipped out as Harry, still under his cloak, grabbed Malfoy’s hand and tugged him along behind him, running on impulse, looking for a corridor that was likely to be abandoned at this time of day.

Finally coming to a stop some five minutes later, they both burst out laughing.

Harry pulled off the cloak, though he didn’t let go of Malfoy’s hand. For long moments, they just laughed, leaning against each other.

It was only as Harry straightened, gulping in air to ease his breathing, that he registered where they’d ended up. He supposed it had been instinct – the Room of Requirement had always represented sanctuary to him, and it was only natural that he head for the seventh floor corridor when trying to get away.

He glanced at Malfoy when his laughter cut off abruptly as he finally noticed where they were.

“Potter...” Malfoy gulped and tried to tug his hand out of Harry’s grasp.

Harry didn’t let go, rather pulling him closer, slipping his other arm around his waist to hold him in place.

“Potter, let go. Now.”

“No.”

 

* * *

 

 

Draco’s stomach was churning and he felt like he would throw up at any moment.

The only thing preventing him from running without looking back was the warm hold around his waist and the fingers squeezing his. His voice came out shakier than he would have liked in the face of that unequivocal _no_. “Potter, please...”

Potter froze for one moment, as if he hadn’t been expected that pleading note in Draco’s voice. But Draco would do anything, even plead, if he could get away from the scene of one of his many waking nightmares, staring at the blank wall where there had once been a door that opened to admit three, but only two returned.

And suddenly his view of the wall was obscured as Potter unfroze, pulling him into a tight embrace, gathering Draco to himself, a firm hand in Draco’s hair that turned his face into Potter’s neck, arms wrapping tightly around him.

And then that was all that was there, the warmth of Potter, seeping into him everywhere, the clean scent of him surrounding him, keeping the memories at bay.

They stood like that while Draco clung to Potter’s robes, concentrating on his breathing, each inhale of Potter’s soap centering him, each whiff of his cotton fresh deodorant clearing his thoughts a little more, until he finally became aware that Potter was murmuring softly, his voice a reassuring counter to the steady beating of his heart that Draco could feel where his lips were pressed against Potter’s pulse.

Potter’s lips were pressed to his temple, caressing softly as he murmured the same litany endlessly.

“Shhh. I’m here. I got you. Hush, now. It’s fine. I checked. It’s okay. Shhh. You’re here. It’s fine.”

Draco listened for a while, his grip on Potter’s robes easing though he didn’t let go, letting the warmth curl through him. “What do you mean, you checked?”

The murmuring stopped. Potter didn’t loosen his hold but moved his head back a little so he could look Draco in the eye. “When we came back. I checked. I wanted to see if the room still worked.”

Draco blinked. He had a feeling there was something he should be getting worked up about, but he was warm, and he felt safe for the first time in so bloody long, in literally _years_. He didn’t want to lose the warmth, he didn’t want to move.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three.

“You’ve been in there?”

A huff of breath ruffled his hair as Harry smiled. “Yeah. The Room of Hidden Things is gone. It wouldn’t come even when I asked for it. But other things, other rooms, they’re still there.”

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three.

“Want to see?”

Draco could feel his body trying to tense up even as Potter tightened his hold on him.

After a few seconds, Potter trailed his lips along his cheekbone, down to his nose and back up to his ear. “Come on. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Draco shivered at the feel of lips trailing along the shell of his ear. His thoughts clearly short-circuiting somewhere along the way, he felt himself nod.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three.

Then Potter squeezed him once before slipping from the embrace to pace back and forth three times.

Before Draco properly had time to miss the warmth, Potter was back, his arms linked around Draco, both of them watching the wooden door that appeared.

Draco looked up at Potter who was smiling one of his soft smiles at him.

Before he could give in to the dread trying to rise inside him, Potter bent forward and covered Draco’s lips with his own.

Draco gladly submitted, deepening the kiss, meeting Potter lick for lick, stroke for stroke, devouring as well as being devoured.

When they broke apart, lungs screaming for air, Potter simply hugged Draco to his side, one arm wrapped around him firmly, almost tucking him against himself, and pulled open the wooden door.

Draco blinked.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t an approximation of the Eighth Year Common Room, with its subtle hues, touches of all four houses scattered through it, lamps at intervals providing light without being too harshly bright. He moved forward into the room to get a better look, not noticing when the door clicked shut behind him.

Completing his circuit, he was faced once again with Potter, leaning against a wingback chair.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry watched the set of Malfoy’s shoulders slowly relaxed as he explored the room and realized just how different from the Room of Hidden Things it really was.

He’d asked for a room that would put Malfoy at ease.

He hadn’t realized Malfoy was this comfortable in the common room, but it made sense. It was where Harry found him most often during daylight hours when they weren’t in class.

When Malfoy finally looked back at him, he moved to the largest sofa and patted the seat next to him.

Malfoy grimaced. “Please, Potter. None of that. As I remember it, you owe me from the last time as it is.”

Harry grinned. Malfoy had to be feeling better if he was up to complaining about snuggling. He kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, shrugged off his robes and leaned back into the cushions comfortably. “Okay. Go for it. What do you want?”

Malfoy stayed put, a small frown creasing his brows as he thought, chewing on his bottom lip.

Harry waited, happy to just watch the way the soft lamp light shone off Malfoy’s hair and skin, adding almost golden sparkles to his eyes. When Malfoy finally came to sit on the other side of the sofa, a safe distance away, there was a wary look in his eyes.

Harry’s brows rose. “What’s up?”

Malfoy hesitated, then blurted out, “Why did the Dursleys call you ‘freak’?”

All of Harry’s muscles locked and he had to clench his teeth to keep them from snarling.

In all honesty, that was a fair question, and Malfoy clearly had not forgotten the last time Harry had had one of his ‘episodes’. The Dursleys were just one of the triggers for that soul destroying ache that sometimes consumed him while he indulged in self pity and tortured himself with what ifs.

What if his parents had lived? What if the Dursleys had actually cared for him? What if Dumbledore hadn’t died? What if Harry had?

Malfoy was watching him carefully now, no doubt watching to see if Harry would answer his question or if there would be a return of his black mood.

Well. Harry had promised. And for some reason, he didn’t feel trapped into answering the way he would have if Ron or Hermione or any of the Weasleys for that matter had pressed the issue.

Probably because he knew that if he told Malfoy, _not today_ , he wouldn’t see that as Harry refusing to _let him in_ or _bottling his destructive emotions_ or _cutting him out_ or any of the other things that had become Hermione’s favorite phrases for a while. Rather, he would back off and take him at his world and bring the question up again another day.

But. If he was going to be answering questions, he was going to do it on his own terms.

Settling back into the cushions again, some of Harry’s tension finally leaked out.

He beckoned Malfoy towards himself. “Shoes and robe off if you want to hear this one, Malfoy.”

Malfoy gave him a skeptical look, but his curiosity clearly won out as Harry had known it would. He toed off his shoes, took off his robes and came to sit between Harry’s legs, his back pressed against Harry’s chest, leaning back into him and automatically adjusting his arms to allow where Harry clasped him around the middle.

Harry tugged Draco backwards until he was practically plastered along his front and inhaled the citrusy smell of Draco’s shampoo, his nose buried in the nape of Draco’s neck.

“They never wanted me, you know. Dumbledore made my aunt keep me until I was of age because of the blood ward protections that were tied to a house where my mother’s blood lived. I don’t know how she convinced Uncle Dursley to put up with me when clearly she didn’t want me there as much as him. But Dumbledore made them, so they kept me.” Harry paused here, but Malfoy didn’t say anything. “But because my parents were magic, I was always a freak to them. I could never do anything right, no matter how hard I tried. We weren’t allowed to say the _m_ word in the house. Magic. Such a small word, but it can make all the difference in the world.”

Harry rested his cheek against the back of Draco’s neck, listening to the two of them breathing, feeling the way Draco’s thumb was making small smoothing circles on the back of his hands where they rested in Draco’s lap.

“This one time I was being chased by Dudley – my cousin – and his gang when I managed to – apparate I suppose. In any case, I went from being on the ground to hiding behind the chimney pots on the school roof.” Harry paused. Gave Malfoy’s fingers a squeeze. “That was not a good week for little-me I’m afraid. Accusations of _unnaturalness_ and freak were par for the course by now, but that week was especially not good.”

Harry could feel the moroseness tugging at him as he thought about other weeks that had been not good – especially when lived through the eyes of a small bewildered boy who couldn’t figure out why he had to be different and would often wonder if he wasn’t a freak after all, memories of hours spent in his cupboard reassuring himself that Dudley was the freak, not him, curling around him. Not him, not him.

Suddenly Draco whipped around in the circle of his arms, breaking his hold to kneel between his legs. He tugged at Harry’s hair with one hand and tossed his glasses aside with the other before a warm, wet mouth was devouring Harry’s.

Draco leaned into him, over him, pushing him back into the cushions, tugging his hair to give himself better access to his mouth, moving forward until he was straddling Harry’s lap.

Harry’s hands were on his hips, pulling his shirt from his trousers, stroking his ribs under his shirt, yanking at his tie, fumbling with the shirt buttons, his fingers ghosting along his abs, teasing his pecs, all the while lips and teeth and tongue continuing in their assault.

Harry was drowning in sensation as he let his fingers roam all that expanse of silky smooth skin, kneading and stroking and memorizing the dips and ridges with his fingers.

Draco broke off the kiss and pushing both his hands into messy black hair, tightened his fists and yanked painfully until Harry was starring him straight in the eye, nose to nose. “You listen to me now, Potter. And you listen good. Because I do not want to have to repeat this. You listening?”

Harry nodded his head even though it hurt to move it with the tight grip Draco had on him. The fierce shine in his eyes was oddly fascinating, more than the huffs of breath against his lips were distracting.

“You, Potter, are NOT a freak. You may be unnatural in many ways – your affinity for your Gryffindor ways for example, but you are not. A. Freak. Am I getting through to you or do you want me to use smaller words?”

There was an odd prickling at the corners of Harry’s eyes and his throat was tight when he tried to speak. “You sure about that, Malfoy? Not even a little freakish?”

Draco snarled and yanked Harry forward for a scorching kiss, his mouth intent on devouring, consuming, strong strokes of his tongue sending electricity zinging through Harry’s veins. He moaned and matched Draco passion with an answering need, and just as he was losing all thought in his head, Draco broke off again.

“Not. A. Freak. Repeat after me.”

Harry smiled a little and knew his eyes were probably getting soft even as his throat threatened to close up again. Draco gave another hard yank at his hair.

“Say it!”

Harry’s voice was a soft murmur. “Not a freak.”

Draco nodded his emphasis. “That’s right. Not. A. Freak. You remember that or else!”

Suddenly Harry grinned, and there was an edge to it, he could tell.

His fingers tightened on Draco’s hips without his permission and he lunged forward, carrying Draco with him until he was flat on his back on the couch with his legs wrapped around Harry’s waist.

Harry paused there, with Draco’s fingers still in his hair, his own spread in disarray on the couch cushions, his shirt falling open to display rosy nipples, his almost hairless chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Then he ground down his hips, and Draco arched off the couch towards him, his legs tightening around Harry’s waist, his arms slipping around Harry’s neck, clutching at the back of his t-shirt before tugging upwards.

Harry relinquished his hold on Malfoy willingly, raising his arms and helping him remove his t-shirt before reaching for the lapels of Malfoy’s and pushing them off his shoulders.

Malfoy raised his arms as he squirmed to get the shirt off, only to get stuck when his unopened cuffs refused to slide off his wrists easily.

Harry took full advantage of the open expanse of skin that lay before him as Draco lay there, with his arms trapped above his head, trailing his lips and tongue down one bicep and over his chest to circle one of the nipples experimentally. The way that Malfoy tensed and gasped and squirmed was encouraging, so Harry lapped with more purpose, leaned forward to suck and graze the nipple with his teeth.

“Fuck! Potter!”

Harry grinned around his mouthful even as he lapped and teased and nipped.

Malfoy seemed to have abandoned the fight to free his hands and now had the shirt looped around Harry’s back as he clutched at his shoulders.

Harry trailed his mouth to the other nipple, laving and sucking and lightly grazing with his teeth until Malfoy was writhing and squirming and gasping as he clutched at Harry and arched up under him.

Harry kissed and nipped his way back up Malfoy’s torso, up his neck and along his jaw until he found lips again. Their tongues tangling together, he sighed into the kiss and gave himself up to sensation, the ache in his chest easing as he left all thoughts of the Dursleys behind.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco sat with his head on his fist, partially hidden behind the curtain of the corner window seat in the common room.

He’d been sitting there for a while now, observing quietly. Watching a few of the Eighth Years have some kind of Bertie Botts bean eating contest, clustered close to the fireplace.

He’d been reading when the laughter had caught his attention.

Now he just sat still, watching as the firelight highlighted a glossy nest of hair, watching green eyes sparkle with mischief. Listening to the almost melodic sound of that one laugh as it blended with other raised voices. Watching how the nose crinkled every time there was a bad tasting bean.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, fuck!”

Blaise glanced to the side with his brows raised. Before he could get any words out Pansy keeled over sideways and buried her face between his back and the couch.

“Fuck. Fuckity, fuckity, fuckity, FUCK.”

“Pans?”

She sat up abruptly. “Just look at him! He’s _mooning_! Blaise – he’s mooning. Merlin’s hoary, horny balls, he is mooning. Ah, fuck.”

Blaise coughed a laugh, glanced at the window seat hiding Draco and returned to his notes. “Come on, Pans. We knew this one was different going in.”

“Yes, but MOONING!! That’s a whole other different.” Pansy sat there staring moodily at the group horsing around by the fireplace, then heaved a gusty sigh. “You know what we’re going to have to do right?”

Blaise sighed himself and glanced at where Potter was watching Goldstein and Weasley as they wrestled for beans. “You know he won’t like it.”

“Yeah, well. The way he’s going at the moment, I’ll be surprised if he even notices.”

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever he’d done to put Potter in this good a mood, he needed to do it more often.

Potter looked up at him through his messy bangs, green eyes intense and full to brimming with writhing emotions, and reached up to softly brush aside the strands of hair dangling in Draco's eyes.

The touch was gentle, a caress, almost tender, and what Draco saw in Harry's eyes was scaring him and warming him and scaring him more.

He had an almost overwhelming urge to turn and run, and to keep going until he lost the image of Harry with his glowing eyes, more honest than Draco ever deserved.

But Potter's fingers were trailing along his cheek and down along his jaw, and though the touch was feather-soft, a mere whisper, it held him there like gravity.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oye, Potter!”

Harry looked up to see Pansy Parkinson headed in his direction, wielding parchment and a quill.

His eyebrows rose when she plopped down on the other side of his table in the Common Room, shoving aside some of his piles to make elbow room, but his voice was mild when he spoke. “Yes?”

“I’m conducting a survey, Potter, and it’s mandatory for you to participate.”

Blaise, used to Pansy, reshuffled his much neater piles to make room for her. He peeked over her shoulder at her parchment and groaned. “Pans... Don’t do this-”

She pointed her quill at him. “You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you, Zabini.” Then she pointed the quill at Harry. “Right, Potter. You ready?”

Harry smiled a little. In some ways, her forceful manner reminded him of Hermione on one of her quests, although he was sure she wouldn’t thank him for the comparison. “What’s the survey about?”

Pansy rolled her eyes at him. “About the significant other, of course.”

Harry raised one eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that I qualified as having one.”

Blaise groaned again. “Pans, seriously. He’s going to kill you when he finds out.”

“I’m not planning on telling him. Are you planning on telling him?”

Blaise sighed, shook his head and went back to his essay. “Right. I am officially disavowing all knowledge.”

“Pussy,” Pansy sneered at him, before turning towards Harry with an expectant look.

He looked between Pansy and Blaise, both studiously not looking at each other even though they were sitting next to one another, then merely shrugged.

He didn’t know what kinds of questions Pansy wanted answered, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out.

Apparently taking his reticence as acquiescence, Pansy straightened her parchment. “Right. Question one. Rate the following on a scale of one to ten. A. Smile.”

Harry eyebrows met his hairline again. “Really? That’s what your survey’s about?” He glanced at Blaise again where he continued to concentrate on his notes although Harry could tell he was listening.

“Just shut up and answer the question, Potter.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Right. Smile. Umm, ten.”

Pansy looked at him. “Really? Ten?”

Harry shrugged. “What? I like his smile. Not that smirk thing he carries around with him all the time. His proper smile. The one he doesn’t like anyone to see.”

Suddenly Pansy and Blaise were both supporting smiles as they busily scribbled on their respective parchments. Proper ones that were rare for Slytherins in general and would usually devolve into smirks pretty quickly.

Pansy cleared her throat before continuing. “Right. Smile: ten. B. Appearance.”

Harry stared at the far wall and smiled to himself as he recalled how he’d left Draco the last time they’d ‘run into’ each other. Hair disheveled, eyes bright, lips swollen, color tingeing his cheeks...

“Hellooo. Earth to Potter.”

He blinked and focused back on Pansy and Blaise, both of whom were smirking at him.

“I’ll put that down as a ten then shall I?”

Harry grinned sheepishly as he felt his cheeks warm. “Umm.”

Blaise snorted and returned to his notes. “Right.”

“Hush, you. Okay, C. Magical prowess.”

Harry blinked and gave her a skeptical look. “Magical prowess?”

“What are you, slow? Yes, magical prowess! For fuck’s sake, get with the program, Potter!”

Harry grinned as he settled in his seat. At least he wasn’t likely to get bored any time soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was feeling smug as he entered the Common Room.

For once, despite Potter’s best efforts earlier, he was caught up on all of his school work. Not to mention, he had managed to dodge Pansy and her ridiculous questions so far.

Halfway across the Common Room, he came to an abrupt halt.

Pansy and Potter at the same table – nothing good could come of this.

He walked as quietly as he could as he approached the table, just as Pansy was asking, “K. Favorite physical feature?”

Potter looked up from where he was fiddling with a quill and his face lit up in that ridiculous smile he reserved just for Draco. “Hey.”

Draco ignored him for the moment to focus on Blaise and Pansy as they twisted in their seats to look at him. The smirks they were supporting were not reassuring in the least. “What is going on here?”

Pansy sighed, then rolled up the parchment she had been scribbling on before getting up from her seat. “I can already telling you’re going to be a party pooper, so I’ll just save you the trouble.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then murmured, “At least you’ll be happy to know he refused to answer the technique question as well.”

Draco choked on his own spit. “Pans! You didn’t-”

She was walking away before he could finish his sentence. “Later, darlings.” She pointed a manicured finger at Potter. “We’ll talk.”

Potter just grinned and gave her a mock salute before turning back to look at Draco.

He didn’t know what to do even as he felt both Potter and Blaise watching him expectantly.

There was a seething mass of emotion in his gut that was making him slightly nauseous. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know all of what Pansy had been asking Potter. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Potter’s replies had been.

He finally stirred when Blaise sighed and started packing up his books and parchment.

“I guess that’s enough for today. We’ll finish up later, Harry?”

Potter nodded at Blaise, but his eyes were on Draco, an almost blankness on his face that didn’t suit him as he continued to fiddle with his quill, running it through his fingers again and again.

Blaise placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder as he passed and squeezed. “Sit.”

So Draco sat, his bag still on his shoulder, not sure what to expect exactly.

A part of him was mourning the loss of that smile Potter had greeted him with.

He should have returned it. Shouldn’t have ignored it. Maybe then Potter wouldn’t look the way he did. It wasn’t so much an emotion that was distasteful as the lack of expression that was making his gut writhe.

Potter sighed softly, dropped the quill and placed his hands flat on the table. “Should I not have gone along with that?”

Draco blinked.

It took him a moment to realize Potter was talking about Pansy and her questions. “I’m not sure Pansy can be avoided except through sheer bull-headedness.” He peeked at Potter to check his expression. There was the hint of a smile there. Something inside his chest unclenched a little. “Thought that would be right up your alley.”

“Yeah, well... I guess I wanted to know what kind of questions you would put in a survey like that.”

Draco blinked again. “Survey...? That bitch! She actually made out a survey?!”

Definitely a smile there now as Potter bit his lip. “What did you think was happening?”

“I figured Pansy was being her usual nosy self with her questions. But a survey... that wench! There are no limits to her need for gossip.” Draco looked up when there was no reply from Potter. Instead, he was sitting there with a soft look in his eyes that made Draco squirm and the hint of smile about his lips. “What, Potter?” Draco couldn’t help it if his voice came out a bit belligerent.

“I don’t think the survey was meant as a way to get gossip. I wouldn’t have answered her questions if I thought that. I think she’s just worried about you because you won’t tell her anything.” The smile grew, dazzling Draco a little. “Which I have to remember to thank you for properly.”

Draco could tell his cheeks were getting warm and he got up hurriedly, tossing his words over his shoulder as he made his way to the dorms stairwell. “Yeah, well. Whatever, Potter.” He stopped and turned just before he disappeared around the bend.

Potter was still staring after him, and he winked when his eyes met Draco’s.

Draco ducked his head and headed up the stairs.

He had a bone to pick with Pansy.

But maybe he’d go look for her later. The warmth filling his chest wouldn’t let him work up a good head of steam just yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was actually pouting by the time Harry finished talking. “Well. Maybe I need to devise a survey of my own. Seriously, Harry, it’s like pulling teeth with you these days.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

Hermione just huffed. “And I should be grateful for small mercies I suppose?”

Harry grinned. “Come on, ‘Mione. Don’t be like that!” Then his smile softened. “I kind of want Draco and me to figure this one out on our own. And I don’t want him freaking out because he has to deal with the fuss everyone is going to make. And you know there’ll be a fuss.”

Hermione’s frown softened. “He’s Draco now?”

Harry grinned at her. “Sometimes he is.”

Hermione sighed, put upon, but she was smiling now. “Fine, Harry Potter. I suppose I have to let you figure some things out for yourself. As frustratingly slow as that process may be.”

“Hey!” Harry squeezed her hand in gratitude even as the conversation devolved into bickering about relative intellectual prowess.

 

* * *

 

 

_SNAP!_

Harry gasped as he landed on his wrist, agony thrumming up his arm in pulses.

Rolling on to his side, he gingerly extracted his arm from under him, sweat beading his forehead as he shivered violently, teeth clenched to keep from screaming out loud.

He cradled the rapidly swelling wrist against his chest and panted for breath, trying to slow down his breathing before he hyperventilated.

When the spots finally stopped dancing in front of his eyes, and he didn’t think he was going to pass out, he groaned and sat up. “Note to self. Must not break fall with hand. It might not end well.”

He groaned some more at the thought of what was probably waiting for him in the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey would scold. Hermione would scold. Ron would get his worried look. And Malfoy. God, he did not want to think about the kind of withering commentary Draco was likely to come up with.

He winced and started muttering under his breath as he waited for enough will to arrive to get up and move from his current place in the third floor corridor. “God, Potter. You’re an idiot, Potter. Moreover, you’re an impervious to pain idiot, Potter. When will you learn, Potter. _Watch_ where you’re going, Potter. The world will not rearrange itself to prevent your tripping and landing on your face, Potter.”

Harry sighed and shuffled until he was slouched against the nearest wall, head tilted back and eyes closed.

It would be useless to protest that he had simply been walking along and the _floor_ was to blame really. Hogwarts was a great big dirty castle, for Christ’s sake. The flagstones were not designed to help the uncoordinated.

Harry sighed again. For all Malfoy’s whinging that it was clearly his own fault and that he needed to _stop day dreaming all the fucking time!_ , he wished the irascible blond was present.

Listening to him rant every time he managed to collect a scrape and not notice was weirdly soothing.

Harry snorted. Who could’ve guessed?

He tried regulating his breathing again, trying to breathe through the pain.

Slightly counterproductive when his broken wrist was resting on his chest and every inhale and exhale caused it to pulse until his teeth ached.

The shivering wasn’t a good thing either. It meant he was likely to collect more scrapes if he tried standing right this minute.

Maybe he’d just stay here and wait. Malfoy was bound to come looking for him sometime.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was whistling softly as he arranged his notes and homework for the next day of classes.

He was in an inexplicably good mood.

He tended to good moods rather than fierce scowling these days.

Some days he couldn’t believe he almost hadn’t come back. It was all working out better than he had imagined it would.

Of course, the first couple of months back had been more a miserable daze of trying to slog through each day as best he could... Draco paused with a book suspended, frowning, as he contemplated what that implied about the reason why things had drastically improved in the short time since then.

He had to admit school was starting to feel like school again. Albeit with a weird sense of freedom attached.

He would have thought that had to do with the professors treating them like adults and giving them some leeway in that they were older and had all survived to see today together.

But he had a feeling that wasn’t all of it.

There might just be something to the determinedly unrestrained lease on life Potter insisted on spreading in the Eighth Year Common Room. It was catching, and even the most reluctant gave in without realizing.

He remembered the great Eighth Year Cookout from a few days ago.

Granger had had a fit when she walked in to find the fireplace had been appropriated as an impromptu oven.

She had yelled and scolded and preached about the dangers of cooking over an open flame in a carpeted room and the Responsibilities Of The Head Girl, but Draco had seen her taking in the bright expressions of everyone who was gathered in the Common Room.

The conspiratorial grins, the inter-house groupings, the distinct lack of anything morose, or sad, or brooding.

And he had seen her give in to the madness and allow herself to be persuaded to help ice some of the cupcakes.

And it was madness.

There was no other way to explain how so many of the Eighth Years could have been persuaded to then hand out said cupcakes all day as they walked from class to class.

The entire day, he had heard ‘Spread the Cheer!’ in every corridor where an Eighth Year had visited.

And if he had bothered to look, he would no doubt have found them with a ridiculous basket decorated in house colors and handing out cupcakes. Even Goyle had agreed to take a basket so that Slytherin colors would also be represented!

Draco sighed and finished packing his bag.

He’d think about the madness that was Potter later. Right now he was meant to be meeting His Sparkiness in the Room of Requirement.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry rubbed his gritty eyes with his free hand while Madam Pomfrey fixed his wrist and Hermione fussed.

“Really, Harry. I’m glad you sent your Patronus to get me, but I wish you’d called sooner. Honestly, Harry. You have to be more _careful_.”

Harry wished he had sent it sooner too. The wrist would have looked less ugly than the purple, swollen mess it had been when Hermione got there.

A small part of him also wished he’d sent it to Draco.

At the time, he’d just remembered that Hermione was closest when she got out of her Arithmancy class, and that Draco was probably in the Common Room and so a shiny silver stag walking up to him randomly would probably cause comment.

And not just because everyone knew what his Patronus looked like.

“There. All done, Mr. Potter. I would ask you to be careful of that wrist for a few days but what would be the point.”

Harry winced. It never boded well when Pomfrey had been reduced to snark.

Hermione was frowning. “It was an accident, Madam Pomfrey. Harry can’t help that.” Then she gave him a narrow eyed look. “This time it was an accident.”

The Pain Relieving Potion didn’t seem to be helping with the headache that was lodged behind his eyes. “I’m just going to lie down for a couple of hours, and then it’ll be fine. Right, Madam Pomfrey?”

The matron shook her head in exasperation a little bit. “Yes, Mr. Potter. Then it should be fine, though you can expect it to stay tender for a few hours still.” Then she turned sharply and marched back to her office.

“Oh, Harry. Come on then, let’s get you settled in.”

Harry let her fuss with bed clothes and obediently closed his eyes at her edict.

Listening to her retreating footsteps, he felt weary.

The same kind of tired that had him waiting a half hour until Hermione got done with her class before he asked her to come collect him.

He wanted Draco. The blonde was mouthy and sarcastic and moody and _familiar_.

Harry was aching in weird ways, and he wanted comfort, and Draco had somehow wormed his way into representing comfort in the past month and a half.

Despite the fact that he said it like it was a dirty word every time, he would let Harry _canoddle_ if he asked.

Listening to the end of day traffic outside the Infirmary, Harry sat up abruptly.

He collected his robes and book bag, shoved his feet into his shoes, and walked out as quietly and as quickly as he could before Madam Pomfrey came out to stop him from leaving.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco looked up when the door to the Room of Requirement opened and Potter slipped through. He walked towards Draco and kept going until he walked into Draco, then stood there leaning against him. Potter made no effort to hold on, just leaned with his face buried in Draco’s neck.

Draco blinked. This was ... just like Potter, but it was also new.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Potter’s frame, who made a small encouraging noise but otherwise didn’t move.

Draco smirked a little. “Bad day at work?”

Potter snorted softly into his neck and finally straightened up, although he did it without breaking Draco’s hold on him. “Tired.”

His face gave credence to just that. He looked pale with exhaustion, making the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. His hair was flattened on one side and wildly sticking up on the other. His eyelids drooped, and he had a glazed look in his eyes like he would collapse where he was standing any minute.

Draco tightened his arms unconsciously and frowned at the waif he was confronted with. “Bloody hell, Potter. You’re not kidding. When was the last time you got a whole night’s sleep?”

Potter just looked away and shrugged.

“Hmph. That’s it. Come on then. You’re going to get some proper sleep if it kills you.”

Potter’s eyes lightened a little as he looked back and leaned against Draco some more, his arms dangling by his side. Draco held him there for a bit, then started backwards towards the couch, pulling Potter along with him.

He relieved Potter of school robes and satchel, then pushed him onto the cushions. “Hold on. I’ll find you something to use as a pillow.”

Potter gave a disgruntled grunt and yanked on his sleeve until Draco took a seat next to him. Then he sort of keeled over until his head was in Draco’s lap.

“Potter! You are not using me as a human cushion. I refuse. What? You can look all you want. I’m not going to change my mind. Come on, Potter. Off. Potter, no. Seriously. Won’t a nice soft, fluffy pillow be better? You can’t possibly be very comfortable.”

In the end, Draco gave in to the tired eyes that had stared at him all the while that Potter was busy not saying anything.

He plucked the glasses from Potter’s nose and folded them carefully.

By the time he was done situating them suitably, Potter’s eyes were closed, his forehead now turned to rest against Draco’s belly.

Draco hesitated, then placed one hand on unruly hair to keep the head in place as he reached for a book from his own book bag.

And if he left the hand in place while he put his feet up and read, well that was only because it was the most comfortable position to be sitting in and for no other reason.

 

* * *

 

 

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	7. Chapter 7

 

 

“IT’S SNOWING!!!”

Ron startled awake at the unexpected yell.

Harry was yanking back his bed curtains to throw his jumper and jacket at him.

“Come on, Ron! It’s the first snow of the season. We have to get out there before it stops!”

Ron groaned. “Harry, mate, come on. What time is it?”

Harry popped his head out of the jumper he was pulling on, his hair a wild mess. “It’s daylight, Ron. Be glad I didn’t wake you earlier. It’s been snowing _all night_!”

Ron groaned again. “Mate, you need to fix this sleeping thing. It’s a Saturday, and we’re going to Hogsmeade later today. What we should be doing is _sleeping in_. Conserve our energy.”

Harry snickered as he pulled on a second pair of socks and hunted about for his boots. “Right. You wouldn’t need to sleep in and ‘conserve energy’ if there were fewer going ons so late at night.”

Ron grinned even as he blushed and mock glared. “Now then. There’s no need to be knocking the late night studying. It’s highly important for the NEWTS.”

Harry snorted and tossed Ron’s scarf at his head. “Come on! I’m of a mind to start a snow ball battle in the Quidditch Pitch. Want to help me recruit soldiers?”

Ron grinned, suddenly a lot more awake. “House battle to the death?”

Harry grinned back. “That’s the idea, though it might be a bit tricky making sure all four houses are represented.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Potter! What the fuck?”

Harry just laughed and launched another snowball, smacking Malfoy square in the chest again. “What, Malfoy? Too _Pansy_ to defend yourself?!”

Someone behind Malfoy gasped, then Pansy marched forward. “You did not just say that, Potter!”

“Oh, I know exactly what I said, Parkinson. Afraid a little snow is going to mess up your hair?”

Blaise smirked at him from behind a gawping and glowering Pansy. “Potter, you’ve let the beast out of the cage now.”

Harry snickered as he looked Pansy up and down. “Beast, huh?”

Pansy actually growled and threw her book bag to the ground, uncaring of the wet snow that immediately started to seep into it. “That’s it! Potter, you’re going down!”

“Quidditch Pitch. Half an hour,” Harry replied promptly.

Then he ran forward, grabbed Malfoy by the hair at the nape of his neck and gave him a quick, violent, open-mouthed kiss.

Pulling away, he grinned at the surrounding Slytherins and ran after the Gryffindors headed towards the Quidditch Pitch to get started on their fortress.

“Don’t be late now!” he yelled over his shoulder before disappearing around the bend.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve got your glasses now, Potter. What exactly do you think you’re going to do when you can’t see for shit?”

Without warning, Draco found himself tackled, their bodies intertwining as they rolled over and over.

They finally jolted to a halt when Potter’s back slammed into a tree trunk half way down the slope. He grunted but didn’t relinquish his hold on Draco’s robes.

Draco opened his eyes to find Potter leaning over him, eyes sparkling, grinning. “Don’t need my glasses when we’re this close, Malfoy.”

Then he leaned down so all of his weight was resting on Draco and kissed him, slipping his hands into Draco’s hair on either side of his temples, cradling his face.

Draco moaned as he melted into the kiss, Potter an almost reassuring weight, holding him down, making his nerves tingle with heat everywhere they touched, snow and competition forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy smirked as she sipped at her hot chocolate delicately. “All things considered, that went very well.”

Blaise snorted. “Very well? We massacred them. Yeah, I’d say that went well.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It was just a snow ball fight. No big deal.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed at him. “You _would_ say that. You were absolutely useless. Practically spent the entire battle making out with Potter.”

Blaise grinned as Draco’s cheeks stained pink. “At least he kept Potter out of the battle too. That boy has freakishly good aim.”

Pansy took another sip of her hot chocolate, her gaze turning introspective. “Although, I have to ask. You two weren’t exactly being discrete. I mean, you’re lucky most of the people were either distracted or too IQ impaired to actually figure out what was happening in the snow drifts. You ready for people to find out about this?”

Draco squirmed in his seat.

To be honest, he hadn’t given it much thought. He tended to forget most of everything when Potter was around.

He didn’t know if he wanted people to find out.

If he was being rational about it, it wasn’t a good idea. Nothing good would come of a potential relationship between the Vanquisher and an ex-Death Eater – and that wasn’t even addressing the entire gay thing.

No one would give a fuck one way or the other that he might be gay – except possibly his parents. Draco winced, thinking about _their_ reaction.

But Harry – _Potter_ – if that hit the newsstands, there would be a deluge of hate mail and people wondering if it was all a joke and yelling about how it couldn’t possibly be true so it had to be some kind of mistake.

Draco’s insides squirmed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face that kind of scrutiny. And he would be the one who would get the brunt of it.

Sure, Harry – Potter! – would be talked about, but it would be Draco who’d get blamed for the whole thing. He just knew it. He was surprised there hadn’t been a worse reaction from Potter’s friends. They appeared to have just taken the whole thing in stride. It made him wonder what Potter might have said to them to get that kind of cooperation.

Then he looked at Pansy and Blaise, conversing quietly between themselves now to give him space to think his own thoughts and realized that maybe Potter hadn’t had to say anything. He abruptly resolved to get both Pansy and Blaise extra-special Christmas presents this year, then sighed under his breath.

Keeping the secret for as long as possible was the rational response in this scenario. So of course Potter was running true to form and pretty much flaunting it in the face of anyone who cared to take the time to put two and two together.

And the way Potter had been acting lately, it really would be just that simple.

And then, today.

Honestly.

What was he thinking, kissing him in full view of the castle windows?

They weren’t keeping secrets from their friends so he supposed it was okay – if only marginally – that Potter jump him in front of them.

But in front of the castle entrance? That had been a bit much.

Draco sighed again, this time more deeply.

Try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge the warmth that was settling in his chest at the thought of Harry flaunting their... whatever it was.

Running after him in the corridors, voluntarily sitting with him in class, stolen kisses all over the castle, _cuddling_ for Pete’s sake, that completely absurd smile Potter always got whenever he spotted Draco... everything else aside, it was a wonder no one had started gossip yet.

He supposed that was down to their friends not talking about things openly as much as oblivion on the part of the rest of the castle denizens.

Might in part also have to do with Potter himself.

No one could have missed the fact that he looked much, much happier these days and smiled much more readily than he had at the beginning of the year.

There was that warm frisson in his chest again at the thought that he might be partly responsible for that happiness.

He’d witnessed enough protective behavior towards Potter – sometimes even from complete strangers – that it might just be one giant conspiracy where everyone kept quiet as long as Potter went about humming as he’d taken to doing these days. 

Then again, it only took the one person to gasp in outrage before the rest of the herd took off after them. Quite honestly, the rational course here would be to stay quiet and get Potter to tone it down for Merlin’s sake.

Even as he resolved to talk to Potter about his less than discrete behavior, there was the tinniest, smallest part of him that was advocating throwing out the rational and just enjoying the ride.

That – small! minuscule even! – part of him actually enjoyed the way that Potter flaunted the fact that he had a – thing – for Draco.

Liked it, reveled in it, wanted to say to hell with the world and just give in. Let Potter hold his hand when they walked down corridors and pop in on him at odd moments to tell him that he had missed Draco and let him hug him when they met again after significant absences.

Such absurd little things, but they seemed to make Potter ludicrously happy whenever Draco allowed such behavior.

And that small part of him was whispering that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to allow that to continue. To be just that bit more public with it.

That he might actually enjoy the attention rather than trying to squirm away every time Potter tried.

That small voice shrank away from the thought that after a while Potter might stop trying.

After all, there were only so many times someone would be willing to brave rejection.

It would be just his luck that he’d ended up with a Gryffindor who apparently had a rather high threshold for bravery in all things big and small.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Potter and Weasley’s room.

He hadn’t been here before, and somehow it felt like a big step, this invasion of someone’s private space.

Potter yanked the door open, and then his face split into that absurdly large grin when he saw Draco standing there.

There was something about that grin that always made Draco soften on the inside.

He wasn’t sure what it was or that he liked it particularly. Just that it was an expression of such pure joy, he sometimes had a problem accepting that he might be the one who inspired such a reaction just by his mere presence.

Ah well. He’d always known Potter was absurd. Why not abnormal reactions as well?

“Draco!” Potter grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “Check this out! ‘Mione worked out some Arithmancy equations for me that might help with the Bromski Roll.”

Half way to his bed, he reversed direction, pressed an open-mouthed kiss on Draco’s lips, squeezed him in a hug, then bounced back to the mess of papers scattered on his mattress.

This was exactly what Draco had been thinking about.

It felt like he would be cheating Potter if he asked him to curb his enthusiasm – it was always so extravagant in its expression.

Especially since he remembered a time when Potter was much more reserved in everything he did and said, almost hunched in on himself.

As he watched Potter sorting papers into some semblance of order that he could properly explain to Draco, he realized that Potter still was that person sometimes.

It was just that he’d gotten used to seeing him around people who he was extremely comfortable with, and so tended to be more honest in his actions and reactions, less worried about judgment, if at all.

A jolt ran through Draco when he realized that he was, indubitably, a member of that company now.

It almost felt like he always had been in some way because he’d never seen that Potter had ever felt the need to censure himself in his presence – even before the insanity that was their – relationship, he supposed. He couldn’t think of another term that might fit.

“Draco?” Potter looked puzzled to find him still standing by the door rather than following him into the room.

That was another thing.

Potter had taken to calling him ‘Draco’. Just randomly dropped the Malfoy one day, though it cropped up in conversation occasionally.

He swallowed as he realized that Potter was ‘Harry’ more often than not now – at least in his thoughts. It would be a bit before he could bring himself to address him as such out loud.

But at least he had tacit permission to do so.

In any case, he didn’t think it was wise if they planned to keep their secret. Once Potter officially became Harry in everyday nomenclature, he didn’t think he’d be able to guard his tongue in company – though he was far more practiced at it than Harry – Potter! – could ever hope to be.

Hands slowly pulled him into a hug, a gentle one this time, his head resting in the crock of Harry’s neck, with him murmuring softly in his ear. “What’s up?”

They stood like that a minute, then Draco strangled the small part of him that was telling him that this conversation wasn’t necessary, that nobody would care, that it wouldn’t really matter so very much if he let nature take its course rather than fighting so hard against it.

He pushed away from Harry, strengthening his spine with ice, putting away the small voice in a dark corner of his mind where he wouldn’t have to listen to it.

“Potter. We need to talk.”

Potter blinked and got the strangest expression on his face, somewhere between bemusement and a grimace. “Ok-aaay.”

He tugged Draco over to the bed and swept aside his papers, careless now, before perching on the edge and patting the seat next to him.

Draco declined to sit, rather pacing a short three step circuit in front of Potter.

He clasped his hands behind his back lest he be tempted to reach out to Potter as his fingers were itching to do. It would be an extremely effective way of putting off this ‘talk’ until later.

Finally, he stopped at one end of his circuit and turned to look at Potter.

He was sitting cross-legged now, his hands in his lap, playing with the frayed edges of the t-shirt he was wearing, his eyes following Draco as he moved around.

Draco paused as he processed the look on Potter’s face.

It wasn’t hostile, not by a long stretch, but there was still something... off. It was too... blank.

Draco blinked and took a closer look.

Yes, that was exactly right. It was too blank.

Potter rarely guarded his reactions around Draco any more, and seeing that blank mask on his face... Draco swallowed as something squirmed and squeezed inside his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

Regardless. These things needed to be said. “Potter. This nonsense needs to stop.”

Potter made a gasping sound but the blankness on his face hadn’t changed, and he didn’t look like he was going to say anything else.

“I’m serious, Potter. It’s too much, with you sitting with me in class and running around the corridors like you have no cares in the world. Seriously, could you be any more blatant?”

“Well.” Potter sounded breathless though his face was as blank as it had been when Draco started talking. “That was a shorter relationship than I was counting on to be honest.”

Draco blinked. ‘ _What?_ ’ “What?”

Potter looked at him with his disconcertingly blank eyes. “To be honest, I was hoping it would take you a lot longer to get fed up. Was counting on it even.”

Draco frowned and huffed.

He didn’t like the look on Potter’s face. And he was reacting completely in a way that Draco hadn’t expected.

But at least he was getting the message. “Well, what were you expecting? Subtlety was never your strong suit, but I would have expected better even from you. You keep flaunting this in your Gryffindor way and it will be a matter of time before the gossips get in on the act. I do not need the hassle of being labeled the Vanquisher’s Corruptor, thank you very much. So the least you can do is tone it down when we’re in public. Because honestly, what was that, in front of the cast- eep!”

Draco couldn’t help that undignified sound when Potter jumped off the bed and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him close.

The blank look had been replaced by one of great intensity that was equally as hard to read. “So. Let me get this straight. You’re worried about people finding out? That’s where the flaunting and the Gryffindor-ishness and _nonsense_ comes in?”

Draco squirmed trying to loosen Potter’s hold, but he just tightened his fingers and gave him a shake.

Draco’s eyebrows snapped together. “Yes! You boorish oaf! What did you think I was talking about? I mean, seriously, this morning! In front of the cast-”

Potter cut him off again with a hard yank.

Draco was starting to get worried, thinking about the way their whatever it was had started out. He hadn’t been expecting that Potter might want to go back to breaking his nose.

He squirmed as he watched Potter take deep breaths. He hoped they were calming breaths.

Finally, Potter lifted his gaze and looked Draco dead in the eye. The fierceness in them made him swallow.

“Now you listen to me, Malfoy.”

Draco blinked. Malfoy?

“I’m not sure what it is that we have between us. In fact, it matters very little to me what we end up calling it. But-” Here he yanked Draco closer still. “You should know that I’m not ready to give up on it yet. Not by a long shot.”

Draco blinked and tightened his own hold on Potter’s wrists. “So, what-?”

“What I’m saying, Malfoy, is that if you want me to tone it down, then fine. I’ll do that. But you should plan on dealing with the gossip at some point because I’m not ready to give up before we’ve even had a fighting chance. And I refuse to lie about this. It’s too important for that.”

Draco swallowed. His fingers were probably digging into Potter’s wrists by now, but he didn’t seem to notice.

There was a warmth spreading through him, dissipating the chill in his chest he hadn’t even noticed was there.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry collapsed on his bed once Draco left.

Shit.

He hadn’t been planning on saying all that.

He wasn’t sure Malfoy had been ready to hear it yet.

But when he’d thought Malfoy had showed up to end their relationship, out of the blue, without the slightest hint beforehand, he’d lost his head a little bit.

He frowned as he thought about that. When had this thing with Malfoy become so important?

But then, he’d kind of, sort of, always known that it was important to him.

It had been important to him before it had evolved into whatever it was at the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry pouted. “Why can’t I just stay in the castle for Christmas, ‘Mione? I have before!”

Hermione sighed, already weary of this argument. “Never when you had another choice besides the Dursleys, Harry. And besides, it would break Mrs. Weasley’s heart if she thought you were here by yourself.” She held up one hand to shush Harry before he could interrupt. “And there’s no guarantee that Malfoy – or anyone else of our acquaintance – is staying back at Hogwarts.”

Harry scowled fiercely as he thought about a way around these arguments.

If he was honest with himself, ‘Mione actually had a few good points in there somewhere, but he wasn’t feeling in a very congenial mood and preferred to sulk.

 

* * *

 

 

The longer Harry sat there, staring at his books, the more the malcontent ate at him.

It wasn’t fair that even when he was meant to be able to do what he pleased – of age and everything – he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted.

And it wasn’t that much to ask either, to want a couple of minutes with his sort-of maybe boyfriend on Christmas day to exchange gifts in person.

But only the bizarreness that ruled his life could have decreed that his sort-of maybe boyfriend be someone the rest of the world saw as anathema to being even in the same room as him, let alone have any sort of pleasant contact with, Merlin forbid.

The more he thought about it, the more pronounced his scowl became, the more he didn’t want to be doing _anything_ , and the more he snipped and whined at those unfortunate enough to be sitting around him.

Ron and Hermione were used to it, so they were ignoring him. Experience told them that he would either eventually shut up or find a solution that no one would like but would suit him just fine.

Greg had had his dose of whining as well, from days when Harry was still frustrated with the general population of the Castle and the mere mention of reporters or the Daily Prophet could send him into a tail spin. He wasn’t as likely to be rolling his eyes as Ron and Hermione, but he was keeping his head down and getting on with the business of homework.

Pansy and Blaise were shooting him curious glances from carefully blank faces, probably wondering at this new side of him neither had been witness to before. He knew Blaise at least had to be wondering where all the shit he was spouting was coming from, considering he didn’t tend to give a crap about most of what he was complaining about on a normal day.

And Malfoy... Harry sighed loudly, then proceeded to complain about the essay Flitwick had assigned which wasn’t due for another two weeks yet. He could tell he was getting on Malfoy’s nerves but right this second, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He also knew he was probably being childish, but it was pissing him off that even to _ask_ to go over to Malfoy Manor for a couple of hours during their two week holiday would be a big enough deal as to require a sustained siege in order to get anyone to take him seriously.

Not to mention enough to stain Christmas festivities for everyone.

He wasn’t even worried overmuch about his likely reception at Malfoy Manor. A little frostiness never hurt anybody, and he could take whatever Narcissa was willing to dish out.

Much more of concern at the moment was the reaction of everyone who would try to ‘protect’ him and his so called virtue should he like to talk about his sort-of maybe boyfriend like any normal, gay bloke.

He had to sit through Percy’s recital of the Deadly Tales of Courtship. He wanted to tell a few of his own.

Not that he and Malfoy had had anything that could be called close to a courtship.

But he bet his stories were still more interesting than anything _Ignatius_ could come up with.

Why couldn’t everyone just _trust_ that he knew what he was doing for once?

They trusted that he could help them defeat Voldemort and gave him enough rope to hang himself – almost literally in this instance.

But mention this at the Weasley table and he would instantly be a child again. Poor little orphan Harry who would never spout such utter nonsense if only his mother had been around to teach him sense.

Harry growled under his breath, then proceeded to list all of the potions in Advanced Potions that he didn’t like and would never get right because clearly they were out to get him.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco finally slammed his Potions text shut, giving up on getting any studying done with Potter sitting there in his current mood. “Potter! Would you shut _up_! For fuck’s sake! _Must_ you whine so much!”

The scowl Potter had been sporting since he arrived became more ferocious. “It’s not my fault the world is such an unfair place that it requires copious amounts of whining.”

Abruptly Draco’s temper snapped, his own anxieties about the upcoming couple of weeks at the Manor completely severing the connection between his brain and tongue.

“Well, you know what, Potter? Get the fuck over it! Life isn’t fair. You’re a perfect example. The world treats you like a king, and here you are playing the pauper. Well, how is that fair to the rest of us who could use some of that golden light to rescue us from the shadows? The answer is that it isn’t. Just _look_ at you, for fuck’s sake. An orphan who likes dressing in rags. All because he still hasn’t completely gotten over the fact that his relatives are no longer around to punish him for looking decent. Well, fuck you and your whinging!”

There was an appalled silence following this outburst, and then Draco’s blood froze in his veins as he heard the echo of the words in his head. Some of that should never have been said for the ears of others to hear.

Potter’s face was completely devoid of expression, and he was looking at some point in the distance, facing away from the group.

Weasley suddenly snarled, breaking the silence and opened his mouth as if to add his two cents, but Potter’s dead voice cut across him before he could even start.

“Ron.”

He said just that one word, but there was a world of meaning in the tone, none of which Draco was capable of understanding but which was apparently perfectly clear to Weasley and Granger. They didn’t stop glaring daggers at him, but they didn’t say anything either as they gathered their things with sharp darting movements and left.

Potter waited until a door slammed somewhere upstairs, still staring away from the group, then got up stiffly from his seat and walked out the portrait hole.

Draco swallowed painfully. There was a ringing in his ears, and he was having trouble breathing.

Pansy and Blaise exhaled at the same time, then started collecting their things together as well.

Pansy looked Draco in the eye just before she got up from her seat. Her voice when she spoke was soft, but her words weren’t. “You, Draco Lucius Malfoy, are a fool. We love you. We always will. But that doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge the fact that you’re a complete and utter idiot sometimes.”

That said, she got up and left.

Blaise hesitated, but when he realized that Pansy was headed to the boys’ dorm rather than her own, he got up and followed her.

Draco hadn’t moved since he stopped talking, and he jumped when he felt someone touch his shoulder. Goyle, with a more understanding expression on his face than Draco had any right to expect.

“You know, Harry never whines.”

“Of course he does. He whines all the time.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded weak.

Goyle’s in contrast was firm. “No he doesn’t. The only time he whines is when he’s really upset about something but doesn’t know how to fix it. Then he whines about everything except what’s really bothering him. “

Draco swallowed, trying to get his parched throat to work properly. “How do you know?”

“Granger told me.”

Draco raised one eyebrow.

Goyle shuffled a little then shrugged. “Back when everyone was trying to get Harry to act famous, he would whine sometimes. On days he was whining, he would do it all day long. So I thought if maybe I asked Granger she would help me fix some of it for him. But Granger said that anything that Harry was actually complaining about was the last thing that was really bothering him and asking him straight was the best way to find out what was really wrong.”

Draco swallowed again. “Did it work?”

Goyle gaze unfocused a little as if he was picturing it right now. “Yeah.” His voice had just a tinge of awe in it that made Draco’s insides burn with an emotion he didn’t want to name right now. “I even got him to smile his smile, and then everything was okay.”

“I can’t stand that smile. How do you stand that smile?”

He knew anyone else and that statement would be completely misconstrued. But Goyle understood exactly what he was talking about. Neither of them had been the subject or cause of such intense joy as Potter seemed to project, and it was overwhelming at the best of times. Other times it made you want to run away altogether.

“You become used it after a while. I mean, Harry’s not Harry without his smile.” Goyle thought about it some more. “I think I would miss it if Harry didn’t smile like that anymore.”

They lapsed into silence as they both contemplated the addictive nature of a smile that could warm your insides without even trying. Draco felt even more cold thinking that maybe it’d be a while before he got to see that smile for himself.

“You should go after him.”

He looked up at Goyle. “Shouldn’t I let him cool down first?”

Goyle hesitated, then, “He might yell, but it’d be better if you talked sooner. Harry wouldn’t be hurting for as long.”

Draco winced as he considered that he might have the power to hurt Harry Potter. But he didn’t, did he?

Draco would always doubt that he had the power to hurt Harry Potter. Not many could touch the Vanquisher.

But here Goyle and he were talking about I-want-to-be-Normal-Harry, just Harry.

Harry, his Harry, was strangely vulnerable to commentary on his lack of proper family, even from strangers.

And Draco had to acknowledge that he was no longer mere enemy or random bloke at school.

He didn’t know what he was exactly, and he was in no hurry to define the amorphous interactions between Potter and him. But he was something, and he had to accept that his words carried weight.

Weight enough to cut Harry if he was careless.

“Fuck!”

He had been more than careless. He had been downright cruel in fact.

“Fuck! He could be anywhere. How am I going to find him?”

“You might try the Quidditch pitch. Harry likes flying when he’s upset.”

Draco knew that. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

He paused as it occurred to him that Harry hadn’t stopped for his broom – or for anything else for that matter – but then he remembered the first task in the Triwizard Tournament and got up impatiently. He was wasting time.

Without another word he walked out the portrait hole in an eerie imitation of Harry's earlier exit.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco circled the pitch one more time on the broom he’d ‘borrowed’ from the school shed, looking above him as well as below, wondering if Harry was hiding in the cloud cover. He could go much higher with his superior broom, and Draco might never be able to catch up.

Ten minutes later, he was finally ready to admit that Harry wasn’t here.

He was good, but he wasn’t so small that he could hide that well in the open sky when a determined seeker was looking for him.

Just as he was about to head down to look somewhere else, a thought occurred to him.

He whipped around on his broom, struggled to steady it against the sharp maneuver, then sped towards the last turret closest to the Quidditch pitch.

Just as he’d thought, Potter was sitting in the hidden roof alcove there, his arms around his legs, his chin resting on his knees, another ‘borrowed’ broom lying next to him.

He didn’t move or react when Draco landed.

Draco hesitated, then sat down a respectful distance away – at this distance, Potter could ignore him if he wanted to pretend that he wasn’t there – and placed his broom parallel to Potter’s.

They sat like that for a few minutes, just listening to the wind.

Then, “I saw you looking for me you know. The clouds, really?”

Draco struggled to form words but his throat closed around anything he might have said and his tongue felt swollen, leaving him feeling as if he would not be able to speak properly even if he knew what to say.

He knew what he _ought_ to be saying, but the words wouldn’t come.

It didn’t help that he rarely, if ever, admitted to being wrong – at least out loud – and sincerity made him feel vulnerable in a way that made him defensive.

Needless to say, that combination meant he often ended up with Pansy yelling at him and smoothing things over with whoever had been at the receiving end of his scathing tongue. And though normally he was content to allow others to take care of things for him, this _felt_ different somehow.

He didn’t want Pansy – or anyone else – intruding on whatever was between Potter and him.

Just like he suspected Potter hadn’t wanted Weasley to interfere.

That made him feel at least a little better, though it also meant that it was up to him to fix things. If he even could.

“I-” Draco tried again.

Potter sighed when the silence stretched.

“I will not try and change who you are, Malfoy. I’ve always known who you are, known what you were capable of. I knew Third Year, and I knew Sixth Year even though no one would believe me, and I know now.”

Draco digested this and swallowed.

He finally got his throat to cooperate, though his voice came out hoarse and soft enough to be a whisper. “What if I want to change?”

Potter’s brilliant green eyes flashed to his and pinned him in place.

Then they softened in a way it should have been impossible for eyes to do, almost melting as that inner light that was intrinsically _Potter_ started to shine in them. “Then I’ll help you.”

He hesitated, then smiled softly. “Just don’t change too much. I wouldn’t recognize my life without arse Malfoy in it creating havoc.”

Draco’s breathing eased and just like that it was easier to swallow.

They sat watching the clouds scud across the sky for a long while, not really needing to say anything more for the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco picked up the small package, wrapped in silver paper with an envelope stuck to the front of it.

Curious, he ripped off the envelope and pulled out the small card inside.

His breath caught, and there was a sudden gurgling of warmth in his chest.

He didn’t need to read the card to know who it was from; he’d recognize the messy hand writing anywhere.

Draco carefully returned the card to its envelope and put it aside.

Then he picked up the silver package, ran his fingers over it softly and hugged it to himself a little.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, Harry, dear. And how is school?”

Harry smiled at the innocuous question.

Mrs. Weasley conveyed her care and worry the way she did most things. Through care-worn enquiry.

Most of the time, it wasn’t even necessary to give her a proper answer, just as long as you acknowledged the question. Some internal meter then let her know that she had inquired, and of course if there had been something horribly the matter then she would have found out.

Harry supposed this might be a trait of parents with a lot of children. Every small thing was not a cause for alarm; it couldn’t be if they wanted to keep their sanity. And given the madness that was the Weasley brood, Harry supposed that was doubly true for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

“Just fine, Mrs. Weasley. Good.”

“That’s nice, dear. Now you make sure and eat well. Be sure to take the potatoes there. We need to get more meat on those bones.”

Ginny snorted, sporting a wicked grin, “Not according to his fan club. They think the meat on his bones is _just fine_.”

Harry blushed as Charlie guffawed and George snickered.

“Well now. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you dear. I just know how much boys like to eat.” She beamed proudly around at her brood and bravely blinked at the seat set out for Fred.

Charlie hastily cleared his throat. “Bill will be here soon with Fleur, mum,” he said.

“Yeah. He said after dinner, mum.” Ginny chimed in.

Charlie gave her a smile. “They just had to go pay their respects to Fleur’s family so they could have Christmas day here.”

Mrs. Weasley’s smile became steadier. “Well, it’s good you’ve reminded me, Charlie. I’ll be sure to keep a portion for Bill and Fleur then. I’m sure they’ll be hungry after travelling.”

Everyone forbore to remind Mrs. Weasley that they were in fact coming directly after eating dinner with the Delacours.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco fiddled with the silver wrapped package as he pretended to read a book. He’d taken to carrying it around in his pocket.

That little conniving _thing_ had slipped it into his robe pocket on the Hogwarts Express while distracting him quite effectively.

He smiled a little, his blood stirring, as he remembered why he had been distracted. Potter should have been a snake, as sneaky as he could get.

Draco hid behind his book and fingered the present again.

It was just a small box really. And the wrapping was getting a little ragged with the constant handling.

But he was quite determined that he would wait until Christmas to actually open the present.

_Malfoy, I saw this and thought of you. Happy Christmas! Harry._

Even if it sometimes felt like he would die of the curiosity.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry knew his smile was a little fixed as he looked at the celebrations happening around him, so he tried to hide himself and his expression as best he could in a roomful of people.

Mrs. Weasley had been completely diverted and transported with Fleur’s happy news.

He listened to the exclamations that didn’t appear to need a response, or even an audience, as she hovered.

“I can’t believe you’re already showing, dear.”

“ _What_ a wonderful present this is, dear.”

“We must make sure you eat all the right things, my dear.”

Charlie and George and Ron were busy thumping Bill even as they gave Fleur a quick congratulations and then a wide berth, their eyes darting back to her frequently.

Ginny was hanging off Bill’s arm, grinning madly, and had valiantly refrained from referring to Fleur as Phlegm so far.

Mr. Weasley, who had been more quiet than usual since Harry, Hermione and his children had arrived, was just as quiet now, but sitting next to Fleur with one of her hands in his, he seemed suffused with an internal kind of happiness that had him smiling and blinking wetly.

Even Hermione’s eyes were wet as she hovered at Ron’s shoulder, but Harry assumed that had more to do with the fact that her own parents were lost somewhere in Australia rather than any impending Weasley pregnancies.

Fleur of course was glowing, and Harry suspected most of that had nothing to do with her Veela heritage.

She was positively radiating pleased benevolence, and Harry thought that air of self-satisfied contentment was the only reason she had allowed Mr. Weasley the liberty of holding her hand for so long – something he himself didn’t appear to be aware that he was doing any more.

Harry has offered his own not-as-exuberant congratulations, and now wasn’t sure what his place was in all this celebratory mayhem.

“I’m going to be a grandfather.”

Everyone turned to look at Mr. Weasley, who looked quite stunned, but in a pleased sort of way.

Then Mrs. Weasley burst into tears as she swooped down and kissed him.

“Oh, Arthur!”

 

* * *

 

 

_~~Potter,~~ _

_~~I hope this letter finds you in good health~~ _

 

_._

_._

_._

__

_~~Harry~~ _

__

_._

_._

_._

 

_~~Dear Harry~~ _

__

_._

_._

_._

 

_~~Dear Potter~~ _

 

_._

_._

_._

 

~~~~_~~I got your Christmas present and~~ _

 

.

.

. 

 

Draco snarled, threw another crumpled piece of parchment at the wall and stormed out of his room.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry shifted in his seat again and frowned impatiently at the way his gut was writhing.

He’d met Andi before, as she had asked to be called when they had first met to talk about Teddy’s custody; she liked him even.

She’d been almost overwhelmed with gratitude when he’d agreed that she was the right person to raise Teddy.

He still wasn’t sure what to expect.

They had parted on well enough terms, Andromeda satisfied that she would get to raise her grandson herself. But Harry’s own guilt at essentially doing to Teddy what had been done to him when he was younger wouldn’t stop eating at him.

Although, that comparison was hardly fair to Andi herself.

He turned as he heard footsteps over the noise in the living room.

His heart almost stopped as the shadows coalesced into Bellatrix just as Andi was stepping forward into the light. Then the baby boy on her hip bounced and gurgled, and his brain caught up with his eyes.

His guts squirmed again.

Logically, Harry knew there was no reason for the unaccountable nervousness eating away at his insides – especially given the fact that Teddy was still too young to be able to judge him for his absence from the boy’s life.

Not to mention, the situation couldn’t be more different from the Dursleys.

Andromeda loved and adored her grandson, and she didn’t care who knew it. It was evident in her every gesture and the way she held Teddy close to her, protectively, in still moments.

This was after all the only reason Harry had agreed to let her care for him until he graduated and could get a job and be independent enough to think about having dependents.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco and his mother shared Christmas breakfast in a cozy breakfast nook flooded with weak December sunlight, sitting at a small comfortable table for four.

It couldn’t be more different from previous Christmases, and Draco couldn’t be more grateful.

He would have hated to have to share the long formal dining table with the ghosts of everything that had happened there.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry carefully spooned another mouthful into Teddy’s mouth.

He was quietly thrilled by the fact that Teddy kept refusing to swallow unless it was Andi or Harry feeding him mouthfuls.

Mrs. Weasley had tried so as to give Andi a chance to eat her own Christmas meal in peace, but Teddy kept spitting out everything that was given to him.

Mr. Weasley had tried; so had Ginny, Hermione, Bill and Charlie.

George had sat and watched, laughing hysterically at the chaos one baby could create. He’d also been the instigator of much teasing regarding impending fatherhood and Bill’s inability to feed even one little tot.

Harry hadn’t been thinking about volunteering; he didn’t think he could succeed where Mrs. Weasley had failed.

But he’d found himself in possession of the spoon and with a lapful of baby when Bill had made a run at George and Charlie had wanted his hands free so he could get his own in while the getting was good.

Everyone had been so glad to finally see a real smile on George’s face, not even Mrs. Weasley had complained about the rough-housing.

In the mayhem, Andi had been the only one to notice that Teddy voluntarily opened his mouth and consented to eat when Harry offered him a spoonful of mush.

She had smiled softly at Harry as the noise level in the dining room rose. “He likes you.”

Harry had blinked damp eyes as he swallowed past a lump in his throat and fed Teddy some more of his mashed carrots and peas.

 

* * *

 

 

He opened the silver package last, in the privacy of his room, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed.

As quickly as he had ripped off the wrapping on everything else he had found under the tree, he disrobed this present just as slowly.

First, there was the slightly frayed ribbon.

Then, a careful finger under the corner of the paper and it was teased loose.

Slowly, he pulled apart the edges until the small box remained sitting on the paper.

Draco hesitated, then carefully removed the lid from the box.

Peering inside, he abruptly smiled.

 

* * *

 

Harry yelped as he was yanked backwards into a classroom.

He turned around, his hand going to his wand automatically, and then relaxed when he realized Draco was standing behind him, an almost chagrined expression on his face, half shy, half defiant. Having pulled him into the abandoned classroom, he didn’t seem to know what to do now.

Harry grinned.

That was okay. Given a hint, he could take things from here.

He shrugged his shoulders to dislodge his school robes and dropped them unceremoniously at his feet with his school bag.

Moving away from them, he put his arms around the Slytherin’s trim waist and leaned against him a little, their breaths mingling.

He smiled, “Hi. Welcome back.”

Draco’s lips quirked and his eyes sparkled. “Hi.”

He hesitated, then brought his arms up to rest them on Harry’s shoulders, loosely circling his neck.

Harry’s eyes softened unconsciously. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Draco’s.

Draco’s lips quirked again, and he returned the gesture.

They stood like that for a minute, just looking at each other, brushing their lips at intervals.

Draco’s arms tightened a little around his neck.

In response Harry pulled him closer, wrapping his arms all the way around him in a hug. He buried his face in Draco’s neck and leaned his cheek against the soft down of Draco’s hair where his head was nuzzled against Harry’s own neck.

Tightening the embrace a little, wrapping his arms around Draco even more securely, Harry exhaled, his entire body relaxing.

Draco tightened his own hold, one hand stealing into Harry’s locks, and melted into the embrace.

They stood like that for a long while, not speaking, not doing anything except hugging really. Content.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry was humming when he returned to the Common Room. Ron gave him a quizzical look, and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

“Somebody’s in a good mood.”

Harry just grinned and tossed his robes and bag on one end of a couch and flopped on the other, stretching like a cat, contorting one way and then the other. “Have either of you seen Blaise?”

Ron shrugged. “He was here a couple of minutes ago. Dunno if he went up to his room or out though.”

Harry nodded. He’d just have to catch up with the brunette later then. “And Goyle?”

Hermione gave him an exasperated look and pointed behind him.

Harry twisted his torso to peek over the back of the couch.

Sure enough, Goyle was sitting in the ‘Slytherin’ corner of the Common Room, patiently holding a bowl out for Pansy, who mumbled to herself as she pored over a book and waved her wand over the bowl at intervals.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the picture they made before turning around and climbing over the back of the couch, ignoring Hermione’s murmured admonishment.

She always scolded for what she called his ‘propensity to climb on things’.

He supposed it was a left over from his Dursley days when he wasn’t allowed to contaminate any of the ‘good’ furniture and rough housing was frowned upon even when Dudley did it. It could prove downright deadly when he indulged.

Sauntering over to the pair, he peered into the bowl Goyle was holding. “What are we doing then?”

Goyle smiled up at him, his lips and teeth stained crimson. “Divining from cherry pits. Pansy even let me eat the cherries.”

Ah. That explained that.

Pansy huffed. “Not cherry pits, Greg. The seeds of a fertility fruit.”

Goyle hmm-ed and Harry grinned. “And what are you trying to divine exactly?”

“How many children I’m going to have. Professor Trelawney said that if I do it just right I might even be able see what they look like. That’s of course to give me clues about who I’m going to have the children with.”

“Of course,” Harry murmured.

Pansy shot him a look but didn’t comment.

Goyle smiled at him again. “So what’s up, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “Nothing much I guess.” He smiled, “I missed you over hol.s.. Was just wondering how they went.”

Pansy’s gaze was much softer when she looked at him, curiously this time.

Goyle smiled again and shrugged – although without jostling the bowl he was holding Harry noted in amusement. “They were good I guess. Family came to visit.” He flashed Harry one of his lightening grins. “Stress free for a change.”

Harry grinned. “I thought family visiting was the number one cause for stress over the holiday season.”

Pansy snorted. “It is when it’s my family.”

Harry smiled and gestured towards the bowl. “Want me to hold that for you for a bit?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him.

“It looks like you’ve been at this a while.” He looked at Goyle. “Aren’t you tired yet?”

Goyle shrugged without disturbing the bowl again. “I don’t mind.”

Pansy pursed her lips then waved her hand at Goyle in a shooing motion. “Let him hold it for a bit, Greg. You go help Blaise look for his blasted books.”

Harry snorted as he swapped places with Goyle. “He’s lost them in the Grand Packing Adventure again?”

“He does every time.” Then Pansy smirked as she looked back from watching Goyle disappear up the stairs to their rooms. “That’s not to say that he doesn’t have help losing them sometimes.”

Harry barked a laugh, settling into his seat comfortably.

 

* * *

 

 

That was how Draco found them when he came back to the Common Room.

Harry holding the bowl of water scented with herbs, Pansy holding her wand, their heads bowed together as they both bent over the bowl where a ribbon of white mist seemed to be twisting through the cherry pips resting at the bottom.

He felt a pang go through him as he paused to watch.

Harry looked so comfortable, his face alive with genuine curiosity. Whatever his beef with divination in general, he seemed to have found some interest in whatever experiment Pansy was conducting.

And Pansy.

The slope of her shoulders was relaxed as she bent towards Harry, the tops of their heads brushing as she murmured under her breath.

She was never this at ease except when around friends, and Merlin knew there were precious few people that either of them counted in that number.

He wondered if Pansy even knew she had started to thaw towards the Gryffindor. He wondered when Harry had become a friend for her. He wondered if she had even acknowledged the fact to herself yet.

Harry looked up then and saw him watching.

His eyes lit up, literally like someone had murmured a _lumos_ , a smile hovering right at the corner of his lips.

Draco swallowed. Perhaps he ought to consider all the ways in which the dynamics between him and Harry had changed before trying to sort out Harry's interactions with Pansy.

There was a ball of _emotion_ swirling and writhing in his gut as he watched that smile, meant just for him.

Harry rarely smiled with his eyes, granted it had started happening more often now rather than just after the war. But when he did, the effect was breathtaking.

His entire face lit from the warmth in his eyes, and it was a heady feeling knowing he was included in the select group who were privy to that joy.

More, that he had caused that particular expression of joy.

Draco was a little afraid to scrutinize that ball of _emotion_ making his insides squirm, lest it all unravel and start making a terrifying, terrific kind of sense.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to handle any of the emotions themselves. Let alone their implications.

As it was, the holidays had been enlightening enough.

They had been relaxing certainly, but he’d still felt restless.

He had been dreading returning to the Manor and having all the memories of the previous year give him nightmares.

He’d toyed with the idea of staying at Hogwarts, but the castle held its own share of nightmares.

And in the end, he hadn’t wanted to abandon his mother to the nightmares of the Manor any more than had been necessitated by his having to attend Hogwarts.

As it was, he’d forgotten to take into account his mother’s resolve.

The Manor looked the same on the outside, but you’d be hard pressed to recognize that it was the same building on the inside.

Narcissa had systematically worked to erase every reminder of the terrors that the walls of the Manor had been witness to. When mere redecoration hadn’t been enough to erase the stains of memory, she hadn’t hesitated to knock down walls and put in new ones wherever she felt was most aesthetically appealing.

All of which meant Draco had returned to an airy house full of light, offering peace where previously only darkness had lurked.

He’d been grateful that he again had a place he could think of as home. That restlessness that seemed to lurk just under the surface of his skin and prickled whenever he had some time alone to himself had diminished.

But it hadn’t gone away.

And that was the problem really.

It terrified him that Harry’s smile seemed to be a balm that instantly soothed the itching. The prickling had disappeared as soon as he had seen Harry’s lips curving upwards as he realized that Draco had been the one to accost him earlier.

It had settled him, making him feel comfortable. Safe. Real when he’d started to believe he was nothing more than a shell made up entirely of Malfoy pride, offering the world the façade that it expected.

Harry had been the only one who had adamantly refused to accept that façade without questioning it.

Heck, first chance he’d gotten, he’d tried to smash it to pieces using nothing more than his fists.

The problem was that the shell had been empty, nothing holding its shape other than a fierce pride to _not give in_. It had been hollow – then.

The last few months, he had been given back pieces of himself.

When Harry let him hit him as an equal; insisted on it. When Harry let him heal him. When he looked at him with eyes devoid of true hatred even as he spat vitriol.

Draco had seen too much of true hatred and disgust directed at himself to mistake that in the intensity with which Harry looked at him.

When Harry had kissed him in anger for the first time, salty with blood, sweet with roughness. When Harry looked at Draco with actual, real, tangible fondness in his eyes. When he always insisted in a million small ways that his life be his choice. Just his.

When Harry smiled just for him. When Harry became Harry. Just Harry.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking away the stinging in his eyes as he moved to join the two at the back of the Common Room.

Right. Time to give due consideration to the notion that he might have officially joined the ranks of the Fucked In The Head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Review time? 

xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

 

Draco blinked. Then shook his head and blinked again. The vision of Goyle with a black and orange striped face didn’t change.

“Good lord! Goyle? What in the world is that?”

Goyle looked up and smiled, giving Draco his first clear look at his face. The entire thing had been painted so he resembled a cat of some sort – complete with whiskers painted on. “I’m a tiger.”

“You’re a tiger.”

“Yeah. They have orange and black ones in India. I liked the picture so I choose the tiger.”

Draco was starting to wonder if maybe he’s missed the plot somewhere. “Goyle, _why_ are you a tiger?”

“Everyone else was getting one, so I got one too. Besides, Harry said-“

“Potter! Of course. Where there’s madness, he’s sure to be involved. Why am I not surprised?”

Goyle just shrugged before bending over his work again.

Draco huffed impatiently. “Well? Don’t just stop there. Out with it! What has that mad man done this time?”

“He just thought it’d be nice if we could do some face painting, you know?”

Draco just raised one brow, and Goyle shrugged again.

“Dray!”

Draco turned to look at the body that had just flopped on the couch next to him, and it took him a minute to realize it was Blaise. His entire face was painted in light and shade to give the illusion of being longer than it was and with much sharper bones. “And what in Merlin’s name are you supposed to be?”

“A high elf!” Blaise grinned and pointed to his ears which, Draco realized, were much pointer than they were normally.

“And what exactly is a damned high elf?”

Blaise shrugged. “No clue. It’s a muggle thing apparently. Some folklore, myth type deal where this is what high elves are meant to look like.” He gestured in the direction of his face. “Harry insisted that there be as many muggle options as wizarding ones.”

Potter. Again. Draco gritted his teeth.

“It’s going really well actually. Didn’t think those Fifth Years Harry found to do the painting had it in them frankly. Speaking of. How come you don’t have your face painted? I thought you might’ve been one of the very first victims.”

“That would require that Potter actually _tell_ me about his mad schemes to corrupt the school.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Harry’s in ‘puppy-mode’ again.”

Hermione laughed out loud. “Well, good. Beats the moping around he’s been doing for the past few weeks.”

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, Saw you in Transfiguration today. Mmmmm. Yummy. -H._

 

* * *

 

_Tap, tap, tap._ Tap. _Tap, tap._ Tap, tap, tap.

Draco groaned into his pillow. He had just gotten comfortable. “The hell..?”

_Tap._ Tap, tap, tap. _Tap, tap._

Blaise finally growled and pushed out of his covers to throw their bedroom door open. "The fuck..? Draco! Do something about your boyfriend! Fuck's sake, Potter. Do you even _own_ a watch?!"

Draco abruptly rolled to see Potter standing in the open doorway, shrugging sheepishly as he watched Blaise stomp back to his bed before turning to meet Draco’s eyes. There was a hopeful, pleading look in the green eyes that was somehow cheeky and afraid of rejection at the same time. The hesitation in Potter's eyes was what finally had Draco swearing even as he reached for a robe and hunted out his shoes.

Well, it wasn’t as if he was likely to get more than a few hours of sleep in any case. Walking around the deserted corridors in companionable quiet, bumping shoulders occasionally, was far preferable to tossing and turning for a few hours before giving up and going for a walk on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear blondie, HOGSMEADE! I insist. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes. Yeeeeeesssssssss. YES! -H._

 

* * *

 

 

Harry starred at the glowing gray eyes that were soft as they stared back, the sun picking out gleaming strands of hair. He could feel the smile on his lips accompanying the steady heartbeat that was a counter-point to his own as he pressed Draco into a tree. He adored days like today. He lived for them. He was warm despite the freezing cold wind, and they were alone to stare into each other’s eyes as long as they pleased.

He hadn’t put a name to the warmth in his chest that erupted outwards whenever Draco was around, but it was there, on the edges of his consciousness.

He leaned forward, unable to help himself, brushing his lips against Draco’s, slowing, softly mapping their familiar shape, taking his time as his hands came up to cradle a face that was becoming increasingly precious to him.

He would wait. He could wait. He had Draco, but Draco wasn’t ready to hear everything Harry was feeling yet. So he would wait.

 

* * *

 

 

_Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade. Please, blondie?_

 

* * *

 

 

Draco shifted out of the way as more students came to hang out the window he had been standing at, hooting and calling out to the Conga line dancers as they sang off key and put on a show for anyone who was watching. He caught the look on Granger’s face – amused and irked and exasperated all at the same time – and raised his eyebrows at her before he thought better of it.

She huffed and crossed her arms. “I asked him. He wouldn’t say a word.”

She went back to watching the proceedings out the window, and Draco found himself in the unusual position of sympathizing with Granger of all people.

Apparently, Potter had called a meeting for the entire male population of the Third Year. A rather hush, hush affair that was taking place in the freezing cold to guarantee there would be no eavesdropping. And that had apparently culminated in a line of Third Year boys being led by him in an absurd shimmying dance around the front courtyard in the dead of winter.

Not that Draco had asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face the same stone wall Granger had – albeit gently. But a wall nonetheless.

It felt like more of the same secret madness as the face painting with the Fifth Years had been. He’d practically been the last person to find out.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco watched as Potter worked with a small frown, consulting his mess of papers, his eyes going back and forth as he double checked whatever he was writing about. He finally decided to ask – if tentatively.

"What? Oh, yesterday. I'm helping the Third Year boys organize a flower drive where every girl in every grade will get a rose on Valentine's Day from a secret admirer. But don't tell anyone, yeah? It'll ruin the surprise."

Harry went back to his mess of papers while Draco sat and thought about how little success Granger had had after trying all day. All _he_ had needed to do was ask and Potter had spilled his plans with impunity.

But then again, he was almost getting used to having Potter incessantly repeat, "All you have to do is ask, Dray."

He'd overheard Pansy that one time and adopted the phrase as his own. Of course, Pansy had been being her sarcastic best, whereas Potter came with a brand of sincerity that scared Draco.

He was afraid to ask for anything, especially when he knew he would most likely be given it without hesitation. Having that kind of power over Harry of all people made him nervous.

He watched the furrow in his brow grow more pronounced as he murmured to himself, clearly trying to match things in the text that were proving stubborn. Almost unconsciously, Draco reached out and smoothed the frown away with his fingers and their eyes caught when Harry looked up.

He gave Draco his sweetest smile yet, capturing the hand of a very startled Draco, who hadn't fully registered that he was going to reach out in the first place, let alone comprehend how he ended up in the position of having his knuckles kissed with that much tenderness.

 

* * *

 

 

_Hello blondie. How was your day? Mine was fucking fantastic! ;)_

_Just thought I’d drop you a note to say hey-o._

_Hey-o!_

_-H._

 

* * *

 

Draco laughed aloud and then stopped abruptly, staring at Pansy with startled eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he had heard the sound of his own uninhibited laughter.

He looked around at the crowd of children running around, hyper with the quantities of sugar they had consumed in such a short amount of time. Then he looked at Potter playing an utterly inane game of Capture the Snitch with the younger children where he was the snitch. He watched Harry twist and turn and evade the grubby grabby hands - all while laughing and smiling in sheer joy.

The candy drive for the local orphanage for war-torn families was a success for all events and purposes.

Draco still couldn’t believe he was here. He still couldn’t believe the other Slytherins were here.

But Harry had been ruthless in his insistence, cajoling and bribing and even resorting to arm twisting when necessary in order to get as many people as possible involved.

He had been adamant that the Slytherins would have adequate representation from all years, because, as he put it, “it was horrifyingly ridiculous that one-fourth of the school be left out of a good cause just because some idiots had a problem with the past.”

A rather delicate way of putting the hatred that ex-Death Eaters and those from Death Eater families still faced wherever they went. But it had been nothing short of amazing seeing Harry manipulate people and events and administrators and politicians alike until things were arranged to his liking.

It had Draco thinking about what Pansy had said, about Potter knowing how to wield the power he possessed.

More and more, Draco was starting to realize that Potter liked keeping to the background – unless he was crossed or thought there was an injustice happening somewhere. Then Merlin himself wouldn’t have been able to get Potter to back down once he started.

Draco didn’t examine the curious feeling of pride watching all of Potter’s shenanigans had given him. That belonged to more of the things that he was studiously choosing not to think about these days.

Draco turned as the laughter turned to squealing, watching as Potter went down in an impressive huddle, dominated by tiny hands and feet.

His cheeks were aching from smiling, an unusual sensation to say the least.

 

* * *

 

Draco gasped and breathed in noisy pants as hands ghosted down his chest to the front of his trousers.

His entire body was buzzing, low pulses of electricity running through him just under his skin.

Today would be a day for firsts, he could feel it in the charge in the air.

He’d never gone this far with Harry before. There had been a lot of frotting and getting each other off, but there hadn’t been as much skin contact as you would think something like that would involve.

Draco would die messily under horrible torture before he admitted it, but he got unaccountably shy around Potter sometimes. And that just was not something you admitted out loud to anyone. Ever. Not if you weren’t planning on murdering the teasing hordes that would emerge.

He gasped again as he felt Harry’s fingers caressing the soft skin between his navel and belt, and his lips mouthing their way up his neck to his jaw line.

The fingers trailed along the top of his trousers to the small of his back and teeth bit at his ear as he felt the lips curve into a teasing smile.

Draco blinked his eyes open to find Potter smiling at him softly from slightly unfocused eyes.

Draco dimly remembered tossing his glasses over his shoulder at some point. He’d cast a permanent impervious spell on them after the first few times he’d broken them doing just that.

“Hi.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist stealing a kiss from the smiling lips.

Although he’d meant for the peck to only last a moment, he became distracted by the softness and the warmth and the sheer joy that Harry put into his kisses until the kiss deepened and became more and harder and sweeter.

When he came up gasping for air, his arms were wrapped tightly around Harry’s neck; Harry’s fingers were digging into his skin where he was holding on to his hips.

He rested his forehead against Harry’s as his body unclenched.

Harry grinned as he bumped his nose against Draco’s gently, his fingers stroking along Draco’s spine until they reached his hair. Draco muffled a groan as they started kneading through the strands.

Draco loved it when Potter played with his hair. And fortunately for Draco, that was quite often. Whenever Draco was within reach and would allow it, in fact. But he also knew that Potter only did it with that distracted look in his eyes when he was feeling pensive.

It was ridiculous that Draco even knew that, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"What're you thinking, Potter?"

"Just that that was amazing."

"And?"

Potter smiled that Draco had caught what he wasn't saying in his voice. Well, of course he had caught it. He had always watched Potter so that he could anticipate his moves, and he had become absurdly sensitive to all nuances Potter as of late.

It was almost embarrassing.

"And that as many times as we've done this, I haven't even seen you naked. Not properly."

Draco swallowed and thought about that as Potter continued to run his fingers through Draco's hair.

With the snogging, and the bringing each other off and the shirtless exploring, this still somehow felt more... intimate. But... he also wanted to do it.

He took a deep breath and brought his hands to the first button still fastened, about halfway down his shirt. He hadn't gotten it open when Potter put his hand over Draco's making him look up at him.

Potter had a solemn look on his face, touched with a tinge of awe and something else Draco couldn't read.

"Let me?"

Draco hesitated, then nodded, dropping his hands to his sides.

Potter straightened up from where he was leaning against Draco and slowly undid each button, almost as if he went any faster he would end up ripping them out altogether.

Once done with the last one, he parted the flaps of the shirt and just stood staring until Draco twitched.

Then he leaned forward and licked a strip from the hollow at the base of his throat to the side of his jaw, and retraced the wet trail with small nibbly kisses.

He continued with them across his collar bone and one shoulder, and then back across the other. A pause, then he licked the side of Draco’s neck where it met the shoulder, leaned forward and bit, holding the sensitive skin between his teeth, hard enough to make Draco feel it, but not hard enough to hurt.

Draco fisted his hands to keep them in place at his sides rather than grab hold of Potter the way he wanted to. He would get his chance later.

Then Potter moved to the centre of his chest to lick and kiss a trail down it, first laving one nipple, then the other. He suckled and licked and teased with the tip of his tongue until Draco was writhing and swallowing moans with each breath.

He was half hard already and from what he could tell, Potter had only just started.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s heart was pounding, his fingertips tingling everywhere they were touching Draco, his lips following in their wake. His sharp collarbone, his sensitive nipples, the outline of his pecs, the quiet ridges along his abdomen, the curve of his waist.

Harry kneaded flesh as he moved his fingers up Draco’s back under his shirt, his lips mirroring the motion up his chest, and then down again to the waistband of his trousers. He brought his hands around and hooked his fingers into the front before looking up at a flushed, panting blonde for permission.

He watched Draco stare at him with wide eyes, pupils blown, and followed the line of his throat as he swallowed. His breath hitched as Draco squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

Carefully, his fingers a shade unsteady, he unbuttoned and unzipped Draco. Watched colourful boxers emerge, stroking Draco’s hips before inching his fingers upwards and curling them around the waistband of the boxers.

He took a deep breath in and held it as he slowly lowered the boxers a little and slid in his hand.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t think he could bear it.

Just as he opened his mouth to say stop, Potter’s callused fingers met warm, throbbing flesh.

Draco abruptly lost all ability to think as Potter shaped his fingers around him, probing and alternating pressure as if to map the feel of another person’s cock in his hands through touch alone.

Draco’s breath hitched as he found himself hardening even more, still trapped inside cloth, now pressing against him even more severely with a hand further constricting his pants.

Potter readjusted his grip, did _something_ – a twist, a curl, _something_ – and Draco gasped for breath.

Harry looked up and flashed him a wicked grin. Then he did again. And again. And again.

Draco could feel the wet staining across the front of his boxers, and he reached out with greedy hands.

Clenching fistfuls of Potter’s shirt, he pulled him up until he was on his feet again. “My turn.”

Then he wrenched the shirt over Potter’s head without giving him a chance to respond.

Draco panted when Harry’s grip tightened in surprise, but he didn’t stop.

He left Potter’s arms trapped by the shirt and reached for his belt.

Fumbling hands quickly had the belt undone and trousers and pants pushed to the floor.

Staring into Harry’s eyes, he reached behind for handfuls of rounded flesh, pulling him flush against himself, trapping Harry’s hand between them.

He looked ridiculous, one hand trapped down Draco’s pants, wrist circled by his t-shirt, his ankles caught by the trousers he had yet to step out of. _And beautiful. He is beautiful._ Draco felt himself grow hot at the thought and leaned forward for a kiss.

Anything to distract himself from that thought.

 

* * *

 

They were cuddling. Again.

Draco squirmed as he tried to figure out if there was a way to loosen Potter’s hold around his waist.

Potter simply murmured softly and tucked Draco more closely against his front, his fingers fisting against sweat slick skin.

Draco swallowed even as his insides warmed and his guts squirmed with a peculiar kind of joy.

Damn it! He really did not want to be here when Potter woke up. Even thinking about what they’d been up to just a few hours ago made his cheeks warm.

Slowly he eased his hand along Harry’s arm and to his closed fist. Stroked the back of his fingers until they relaxed. Wove his fingers through Harry’s so they wouldn’t clench against him again when he moved.

Then he slowly moved Potter’s arm away from himself and slipped away from next to him, still clutching his hand.

As Draco knelt there, staring down at Harry’s face relaxed in sleep, oddly vulnerable, his fingers clenched around Harry’s hand.

He brought the hand up and placed a soft kiss to the back of it before loosening his hold and carefully replacing Harry’s arm.

Then he stood up, padded around collecting his clothing as quickly as he could, and he slipped away quietly, back to the dorms in the still sleeping castle.

 

* * *

  

Harry woke to stillness and quiet in the Room of Requirement.

He blinked, disoriented, and reached for his glasses. Not finding them to the left of his head as expected, he sat up to murmur a soft _accio_.

As the room came into focus around him, memories flooded back.

Malfoy gasping for breath when Harry touched him. Malfoy smiling a little smugly when he made Harry shiver with his touch alone. Malfoy throwing his head back as he came all over Harry’s fingers. Malfoy lying next to him, his head pillowed on Harry’s arm, blinking up at him sleepily.

Harry glanced around to confirm what his first look had told him.

The room was empty. Malfoy was gone, and so were his things, with him.

 

* * *

 

 Draco was avoiding him. Again.

Harry sighed as he headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

This was Day Three since he had woken up by himself in the Room of Requirement, and it felt like Draco and he had taken ten steps backwards in their relationship if they were back to avoidance.

“Harry!”

He turned and waited until Hermione caught up and linked her arm with his. “Progress?”

Harry shook his head. “Same old, same old.”

She gave his arm a squeeze as they passed into the Great Hall. “He’ll come around. You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

 Draco froze with a forkful of egg in his mouth.

Fuck.

Potter was here.

In fact, he and Granger were no doubt headed straight to the Eighth Years table just this instance.

Damn Pansy and her whinging at him about _eating right_ and _starving the pretty right out of himself_ and her clearly misinformed assurances of _of course he won’t be there... he eats at the crack of dawn like a mad person_.

He abruptly put down the fork, making ready to leave, his eyes never leaving the two engrossed Gryffindors as they moved across the room.

His eyebrows quirked as Potter bent towards Granger’s ear and murmured something, and Granger replied with what he could tell, even from this distance, was her well-practiced _Oh Harry_.

Abruptly she stopped and pulled Potter into a hug right there in the middle of the Great Hall, curious eyes be-damned.

Draco’s eggs stuck in his throat going down as Potter buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes, looking as if he wanted to hang on to her as hard as he could but wouldn’t in case he hurt her with the force of his need.

Draco’s eyes were starting to sting, and he very badly wanted to leave, but he would just draw attention to himself if he stood up now.

“Oye!” Everyone turned towards the doors of the Great Hall to witness the entrance of a ginger fury, shaking his fist in the air as he progressed towards the rest of the Golden Trio. “Get your ruddy hands off my girlfriend!”

As one, heads swiveled to take in where one Harry Potter stood with his arms wrapped around Granger’s waist. Abruptly, his arms tightened, pulling her further into his body, twisting to put himself between Granger and Weasley. “Oh yeah? And if I don’t?”

Weasley shook his fist harder. “I’m warning you, Potter!”

Jaws and cutlery dropped as Potter stuck his tongue out at Weasley, bent forward to sweep a squealing Granger into his arms, and took off across the Hall.

Weasley immediately gave chase.

“Potter!”

Some of the Firsties were beginning to giggle uncertainly as astonishment started to give way to amusement.

Draco struggled to swallow the mouthful that had become painfully lodged in his throat while he had surreptitiously been not-watching Potter and Granger earlier.

Potter blew past him, Granger holding on for dear life even as she admonished him to _put her down this instant_ in a breathless voice.

Potter rounded the edge of the Eighth Year table and put it between Weasley and himself just as the catcalls and hooting were starting. Ginger screeched to a halt just behind Draco, huffing from his run across the Great Hall.

“Potter! You’re going to pay for this. Give her back!”

“Honestly! You two! This is not a game. Harry James Potter, you will put me down now or I- _eek_!”

Potter’s grin was wicked as he started to run in one direction, and then back again when Weasley went to cut him off at the end of the table.

It seemed they were at an impasse.

Weasley was between Potter and the exit, and the Eighth Year table between him and Potter. Short of climbing straight across the table, they could do their running around dance all day.

Draco shifted a little to provide clear access without getting his breakfast dumped in his lap should either of them get any bright ideas.

He froze when Potter’s eyes flicked to him, but Potter didn’t do anything more than wink at him before he took off towards the end of the table again, Weasley mirroring him on this side of the table – that is, until he ran into Goyle’s pumpkin juice.

“The fuck-?”

Potter barked a laugh as he swept things out of the way and gently placed Granger on the table.

He took her hands and kissed the back of each before he murmured, “Princess.”

Then he did exactly what Draco had been thinking and launched himself across the table at Weasley where he stood blinking pumpkin juice out of his eyes.

They went down in a tangle of swearing and laughter.

That was when the cheering and betting started.

“Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! This behavior is extremely inappropriate for Eighth Years, and you will both stop and get off the floor _this instance_!”

The cavalry had arrived apparently.

 

* * *

 

 Harry was so _tired._

Granted the detentions Ron and he had earned earlier had been beyond totally worth it.

McGonagall had let them go in exasperation, shaking her head at the mess of a trophy room when they had valiantly tried to pretend they had been polishing all along rather than whispered messing about and giggling nonsensically.

But he couldn’t seem to be able to fall asleep regardless of how tired he felt physically.

He hadn’t been sleeping at night, and what little sleep he got while cat-napping was not enough.

In fact, it made him even more restless.

He was tired. So tired.

He just wanted to close his eyes and not have them ache.

His body hurt from the exhaustion, his muscles numb and strangely achy at the same time.

He had a headache. He’d had it for so long now he couldn’t remember when it first started.

His voice was hoarse and croaky from too much talking or too little talking or he didn’t know what.

His shoulders were developing a permanent hunch from propping himself up on his elbows as he dragged himself through the day.

He was so, so tired. He wanted to lie down and sleep, and not have his brain go into overdrive as soon as he stopped moving.

It felt like he hadn’t stopped moving in days.

 

* * *

 

Day Five. Harry was determinedly not upset.

There was nothing to _be_ upset about until he’d spoken to Malfoy. Then he would decide if there was anything to be upset about.

In the spirit of not being upset, he took a long, pounding, scorching hot shower in the prefects’ washroom, and then headed to the Great Hall to start his day with a proper breakfast.

Nothing bad could happen on a day when he had had a proper breakfast. Everyone said so. More importantly, Hermione said so, so it must be true.

He felt all the muscles in his back that the shower had relaxed try to bunch up and tie themselves into knots again as he entered the Great Hall and walked towards the Eighth Years table.

That was strange. That creeping feeling up his spine hadn’t happened to him in a long time. Not since...

He glanced around to take in the mood of the room.

Staring students, check. Gaping mouths, check. Whispered gossip poorly concealed behind hands, check.

A leaden lump settled in the bottom of his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he was up to dealing with this kind of shite today.

“So what’s the Prophet gone and done now?” he asked as mildly as he could manage as he slid into place next to Goyle.

Blaise cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to reply, then silently passed along the newspaper Anthony was holding.

 

 

> **Harry Potter: The Boy Who Loved _Men_?**
> 
> The Chosen One has finally Chosen Another! This reporter has heard tantalizing rumours out of Hogwarts that Harry Potter, the Saviour who is the object of everyone’s affections, and the star of every witch’s fantasies, has finally picked a significant other! In a very hush-hush interview with a Hogwarts student earlier this week, it was disclosed that this significant other is bound to break the heart of every witch in the Wizarding World, but perhaps not for the reason we would assume. Could it be? The Vanquisher has finally chosen to give his heart, but to a wizard rather than a witch?!!

 

There was a picture of Harry exiting the orphanage they had held their candy-drive at, smiling and waving good bye over his shoulder to all the children gathered to see him off.

Right next to that was a small heading, _War Reparation or Burgeoning Romance?,_ with a picture of Harry and Draco standing very close under a tree somewhere in Hogsmeade.

The afternoon light was making them glow, both of them with what were almost serene looks on their faces, and even though they appeared to be staring off into the middle distance, watching the same invisible spot miles away, they kept sneaking glances at each other.

Harry stared at that picture for a long time before finally returning the paper. There was more to the article, but he didn’t want to read it.

“Where is he?”

At Blaise’s helpless shrug, he got up abruptly and headed to the dorms.

If ever he had needed the help of the Marauders’ Map, this would be the time.

 

* * *

 

 He found him in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor in preference to the comfortable seating the Room had arranged, slumped against the back wall, his elbows on his knees and hair in disarray from having run his fingers through it too many times.

Harry paused at the door before closing it softly behind him and going to take a seat next to Draco, not touching, but close. “Well, that’s gone and torn it then.”

Draco snorted as he lifted his head to look at him. “The gift of understatement – yet another of your many talents I see Potter.”

Harry shrugged and looked back, waiting.

Draco finally sighed and looked down at his clasped hands. “It’s not like we didn’t see this coming. It was inevitable really. Hopeless even thinking anything to do with _The Vanquisher_ could be kept secret for all that long.”

Harry winced at the soubriquet, but still didn’t say anything.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Malfoy looked at him almost pleadingly. “You see that, don’t you? My mother…” Malfoy trailed off as he put his head in his hands. “I can only imagine what she must think.”

“It can’t be all that bad. I mean, I get that this is not how she should have found out, but she would want you to be happy, right? I mean–”

“Potter, you understand nothing! I’m the last of the Malfoys and this... This would break her heart. Merlin, I can’t lose her over this. I–” Malfoy looked hopelessly lost as he stared at his hands.

The silence stretched between them as Harry tried to quiet his heart, beating painfully against his throat.

He reached out towards Malfoy, but dropped his hand before he actually touched him.

"I don't have a mother. I never had one. Oh I wished, and wished, and wished. Some nights, when there was nothing but the spiders and the darkness, that possibility was the only thing that kept me from screaming in terror. And I found my mother when I came to the Wizarding World. I found her in all her shining, wonderful, beautiful, loving glory. But that doesn't mean that I can have her. I know she loved me. She loved me enough to die for me. And that's going to have to be enough for the rest of my life."

There was a pause as Malfoy looked up and they stared at each other.

"I never had a mother, Malfoy. And I never will. So I know better than most what it is to have a hole in your chest that can never be filled, not by all the kindness in the world. I will not, and cannot, ask you to choose between me and your mother. That would be no choice at all really."

Malfoy swallowed. "So, what, then? This is over?"

Harry shook his head and gave him a smile, though it trembled a little just at the corners. "I'll take what I can get. We'll have what it's possible to have - until we don't anymore."

 

* * *

 

Staring into the fire, sitting alone in the Common Room later that evening, Harry remembered that he had never had the chance to have that proper breakfast he had wanted to start his day with.

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, I went flying today, and I missed our chats out by the bleachers. Maybe you want to go for a picnic again sometime? –H._

 

* * *

 

Suddenly Pansy growled and threw down her quill. “Alright. I’m done with this mourning quietly crap. I hate this, Dray. I hate that you’re doing this to yourself. I bloody loathe it.”

Draco blinked tiredly and rubbed his eyes.

He couldn’t seem to be able to find the energy to respond.

He wasn’t even sure what he would say if he could muster the energy to get worked up about it.

It was funny. People assumed that Pansy was the hanger on and the one that Draco allowed to follow him everywhere just like Crabbe and Goyle, but she had always been his protector.

Ever since they had been very young and each other’s only company at functions that demanded they act like young adults.

Something in her responded instinctively to the need she had always been able to sense in Draco.

Standing in his father’s shadow, Draco had always wanted to be loved for himself, needed for himself.

She’d probably chop off an appendage or two if he ever said this to her, but the mother in Pansy couldn’t stand to not comfort someone who needed her.

Granted, her version of comfort was not something that everyone could deal with. Bullying, screaming and nasty hexes seemed to come natural to her, and she worked with the skill set that she had.

Yet, Draco had never – not once – doubted the sincerity of her caring for him. Just him. Not the Malfoy heir. And not the Slytherin prince.

“Dray? Dray, come on.” Pansy’s voice had taken on a slightly pleading edge. “At least talk to me. There has to be a better way than this.”

Draco just sighed and continued to stare at his canopy.

He had been doing a lot of that lately. He was sure he had the creases and the folds memorized by now.

“Damn it, Draco. You know I’m not Potter’s biggest fan, but fuck it all, even I could tell you that the freaking berk cares for you. What is your damage?”

Draco finally turned to look at Pansy where she was sitting cross-legged on Blaise’s bed. She’d taken to doing all her school work here when Draco stopped showing up in the Common Room altogether.

“Pans. I’m just so tired.”

Her eyes softened a little, but the scowl didn’t abate. “There’s an easy fix for that, and we both know it.”

Draco barked a harsh laugh and his eyes stung. He turned back to his canopy watching.

“There is nothing easy about this, Pans, and we both know it. I can’t imagine what mother must be thinking. You of all people know what is expected of me. You were there at all the bloody mad functions where I was paraded around like a bloody prize horse for the pure blood community _in the hopes of a satisfactory merger at a later date_.”

Draco could hear the bitterness in his voice as he quoted his father’s oft repeated words verbatim. “She hasn’t said anything in her letters, and what would she say about it anyway? I honestly don’t know how _I_ would bring something like this up. And father…”

Draco stopped abruptly as his throat closed up.

Pansy sighed in the silence. “Yes, yes, the pure blood marriage mart. Trust me, you haven’t seen true misery until you’ve been a girl at that circus. Pansy dear, we mustn’t wear that, people might think you’re of questionable character. Pansy dear, we must not slouch. Pansy darling, we must not sit in quite that way, it might appear rather risqué. Darling, decent girls don’t cross their legs in company; it sends entirely the wrong idea. A bunch of repressed, sex-starved harridans with sticks up their behinds trying to suck the joy out of life.”

More silence. One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

“Draco?”

“Yes, Pansy?”

“Draco, things are different. Now, I mean, ever since... Maybe-”

The snarl escaped before Draco could do anything about it. “There is no _maybe_ , Pansy! You _know_ this. Leave it alone!”

He abruptly got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped to take a deep breath and compose himself.

Wouldn’t do to be storming through the Common Room like a bloody banshee. No need to make a spectacle of himself.

Just before he stepped through, he did a customary sweep of the room, and he stopped at the _wrongness_ of the picture before him.

Even though the Eight Years shared a Common Room, they tended to be cliquish in their social interactions.

The Ravenclaws were near the windows where there was the best light and they had easy access to the book shelves.

The Gryffindors sprawled near the fireplace where it was warmest.

The Hufflepuffs had taken over one corner and arranged some of the most comfortable chairs in a semicircle around a plush looking carpet and were draped on and half off the furniture in various poses.

The Slytherins were in another corner where they didn't have to turn their backs and could keep an eye on the stairs leading to the dorms, the portrait hole as well as the rest of the occupants of the room. Some habits were simply too ingrained to give up.

At first glance, everything was as it should be.

Giggling girls in corners, whispering hysterically, check. Blaise working on his assignments with half an eye on the room, check. Macmillan complaining loudly that he was being left out of the game _again_ , check. Weasley trying to cajole people into playing chess with him, check. Granger with her nose buried in a book, check.

And then it struck him. What was missing from the picture. The thing that connected all the disparate dots in the Common Room on any given day.

Harry.

Harry wasn’t here.

Harry who would normally be here, a tangible connection between the different houses, pulling them closer with his presence, his antics causing the Ravenclaws to smile indulgently even as they worked, the Slytherins to watch avidly to see what would happen, the Gryffindors to participate eagerly and the Hufflepuffs to come forward shyly.

He’d been here in this room on many an occasion himself, inexplicably feeling lightened by whatever madness was ensuing even when he was merely a spectator rather than a participant.

Harry. Harry was missing.

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, The First and Second Years are organizing an Easter egg hunt for this Sunday. I know, I know. You scoff at everything Muggle, but I thought it would be a fun way to have a scavenger hunt regardless. Won’t you come join us? Maybe just come for the end when we get to eat all the chocolate eggs we found? –H._

 

* * *

 

Draco stood out of sight in the window, watching the chaos that was Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.

Grubby students sporting droopy rabbit ears in their house colors stood along the edges, shouting encouragement and slurs alike.

Each team had two blindfolded members in the patch, groping around on their hands and knees, trying to locate Easter eggs for their baskets based on the imprecise directions of their teammates.

Every few minutes a buzzer would sound and the teams would switch out for new members.

Draco stopped when his eyes caught on a black haired figure sporting red rabbit ears.

He hadn’t consciously been scanning the crowd, but now that he’d spotted him, he couldn’t deny that he’d been looking.

Potter was standing at one edge of the pumpkin patch with Hagrid looming over him.

Hagrid couldn’t have looked prouder having a horde of crazies trampling through his tilled land.

And Harry. He looked ... restless. Smiling while he watched the others trample through mud and shrub to fill up their baskets, but still almost twitchy, like his body wanted to be in motion, but he was holding himself still by sheer force of will alone.

He looked up to smile at something Hagrid said to him, and then froze for just a second.

Patting Hagrid’s arm twice, he started skirting the crowd, glancing around as he made his way through.

What was he looking for?

 

* * *

 

He was here.

He was hiding out upstairs, but he was here!

Harry repositioned himself where he could better see the glimpses of blonde hair that he’d caught in an upstairs window and smiled to himself as the warmth in his chest grew.

He was here.

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, Imagine me hugging you. . . . Hi. –H._

 

* * *

 

Harry’s eyes were soft, a small smile hovering on his lips, as he cupped Draco’s cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing back and forth gently along his cheek bone. “You’re beautiful.”

Draco blushed. “I-”

Harry’s eyes melted some more as he leaned forward. “Beautiful,” he murmured before pressing his lips against Draco’s in a soft kiss.

Draco sighed into the kiss that was all heat and tenderness, making no move to deepen it yet, simply enjoying the warmth that was spreading through him ... And then he opened his eyes.

He blinked at the familiar canopy of his bed as the warmth from the dream stayed with him for one shining moment.

And then the horrifying truth settled like ice in his gut. A dream. A fucking dream.

“Fuck. Fuck, _fuck_ , FUCK!”

Blaise grunted somewhere in the darkness of the room. “What now, Dray?”

Draco turned over and buried his face in his pillow as he exhaled on a scream. “FUUUUUUUUUCCCKK.”

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, April showers always depress me, and yet I find them strangely cathartic. Here is the world, crying all of its tears at once so that it can be happy and joyful for the rest of the year. It makes you think maybe we could learn something from Mother Nature. –H._

 

* * *

 

Draco couldn’t sleep.

He hadn’t been able to sleep for a few days now.

In an ironic joke fate had given him peace for a little while before capriciously snatching it away again just as he was getting used to it.

He couldn’t believe how well rested he had been while Potter had been insisting in his idiotic way on _cuddling_.

An activity that always made the back of his neck feel hot whenever Potter insisted.

And he would always find himself embarrassingly falling asleep.

In Potter’s arms no less.

He’d attributed falling asleep, _in Potter’s arms no less_ , to his exhaustion, but he’d never felt as tired as he did right now standing at the parapet of the Astronomy Tower.

Stupid Potter and his stupid warmth.

Draco shivered as he turned to be on his way. The git had even managed to take away the self-flagellating pleasure from his nightly pilgrimage.

The Room of Requirement... the Astronomy Tower... the Great Hall... to the Owlery for some restful company... the one place he couldn’t remember being confronted by accusing stares.

Each place had been a reminder of his failures and how dearly they had cost him. A reminder that he needed to be more. To be better.

And now... the walking felt ... empty.

He kept expecting to find Potter, waiting for him or to come barging around the next corner in his normal blustering way.

He didn’t know what to do with the disappointment whenever he turned a corner to find a corridor empty and no messy black hair and faded t-shirt in sight. He was after all the one who had decided enough was enough.

There was that flash of anger and disappointment again as he remembered the look on Potter’s face as he held back a fuming and frothing Weasley even as he offered Draco a cool nod before walking out of the Great Hall to get away from their avidly staring audience.

The morbidly curious murmuring had started even before he had fully cleared the door.

Draco himself hadn’t quite been able to believe the vitriol that had spilled out of his own mouth.

All evidence to the contrary, he’d been trying to make himself believe that Potter wouldn’t have believed any of it either, that he would have known that Draco didn’t really mean it.

With the first snarled epithet, Potter's entire face had crumpled as Draco had looked on, and then a moment later his expression was wiped clean.

He dropped his eyes to the floor though.

That was one thing Potter had never been able to master - how to hide the emotions in his eyes. Everything he felt was displayed there, shining in its intensity, for anyone who cared to read him. Better than what his words said, better than what his body language said, Potter's real feelings were always there in the eyes.

Admittedly, he tried to match his words to his emotions as often as possible - another one of his fruitless quests for honesty – Draco snorted softly. It was probably the reason he'd never been able to completely hide his emotions - something his own upbringing had demanded he master by the age of eight.

Yet, the stark, cutting truth was, Draco had given Potter no reason not to believe all of the crap he had said.

He’d been avoiding the Great Hall ever since.

And there was no peace to be had in the Owlery anymore. Everything in there reminded him of Potter.

Draco gave his head a hard shake to get rid of the same thoughts that had been circling like a broken record for days now.

Five days to be precise.

Five days since he had received one of Potter's idiotic epistles.

Five days that his ears had been ringing with echoes of _You’re beautiful_.

Five days since he had staged a rather public confrontation with Potter so the status of their “relationship” could not be misconstrued in any way.

A confrontation that was everything Potter hated about being a household name.

Damn it! He needed to sleep.

He missed those arms.

 

* * *

 

 

He knew he was worrying Hermione.

It was always easy to tell when she was fretting, but the strain of worry had even started to show on Ron’s face.

That was when you knew things were bad.

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to make Hermione cry.

It was just that, he couldn’t stand to be touched any more.

His skin prickled and made him restless and edgy in weird ways. He knew she meant well, but he’d shrugged away from her as soon as she’d tried to hug him.

He’d felt instantly guilty at the tears, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to hug her even then.

That was when the worry started to show on Ron’s face as he provided the hug that Harry hadn’t been able to.

But he didn’t want to deal with that either.

He was just so tired - bone-weary with exhaustion - and he wished he could sleep.

It would be a kind of oblivion.

 

* * *

 

 

Apologies for this update having taken this long! But the next one is coming soon! I think we're almost at the end of this story... Fingers crossed! 

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	9. Chapter 9

 

 

"Where is he?"

Pansy bit her lip uncertainly. "I don't know if he..."

Impulsively, Harry reached out for her hands. "Pansy, please. Please, where is he?"

She sighed. "Upstairs. He's supposed to leave for Malfoy Manor in the morning so he can be there with his mother when they bring the body from Azkaban. Blaise is with him now, but he hasn't said anything since he got his mother's letter."

Harry gave her hands a grateful squeeze before he headed up the stairs to the dorms.

 

* * *

 

Blaise looked up as Harry knocked quietly and pushed open the door of their room. He was sitting at the foot of Draco's bed.

He stared at Harry standing in the door, then nodded and got up.

He squeezed Harry's elbow once as he went past him and closed the door quietly behind himself.

Harry came closer to the bed and for a moment just stood looking down at Draco curled up on his side, facing away, towards the wall.

He debated for a minute, then toed off his shoes before climbing in with him.

Draco stiffened as he lay down next to him on the same pillow, but otherwise remained still.

Harry turned towards him a little and rested one hand on Draco's arm, just below his shoulder, caressing softly with his thumb. He kept his voice soft in the silence of the room. "Draco? Draco, I'm so sorry."

When Draco didn't say anything, Harry sighed and started to move away.

Draco turned around with a choked sound then and buried his face in Harry's neck even as his arms went around him, clinging like he might never let go.

Harry returned the embrace at once, winding his arms around Draco, one hand clenched in the back of his shirt, the other softly carding through his hair.

Draco started shaking as Harry held on to him tightly.

Soon, Harry could feel his shirt becoming damp though Draco never made a sound.

 

* * *

  

Harry lost track of time as he lay there, holding on to Draco, soothing with caresses and soft murmurs when he could.

The shaking had stopped first, before the warm body in his arms had slowly become pliant as Draco fell into exhausted sleep.

He had pulled the covers up over the both of them then, doused the light in the room and spelled the bed hangings closed around them.

He hadn't slept though, continuing to slowly run his hand through Draco's hair, keeping watch in case he woke up again.

 

* * *

  

Much later, once the shadows had started softening in the daylight, he heard the door open quietly.

Someone tiptoed across the stone floor, and Pansy's head appeared around the bed curtains.

She looked like she hadn't had much sleep either, her eyes red rimmed and puffy.

They stared at each other as Harry continued to softly stroke through Draco's hair as he had been doing all night.

Pansy blinked once, then nodded.

"It's time," she murmured softly before going back out the way she had come in.

Harry sighed under his breath before stilling the motion of his hand.

Draco stirred.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry watched from his seat on the side of the bed as Draco spelled his hair into place.

He still hadn't spoken a single word.

Not when Harry had softly kissed his cheek to wake him up and told him it was time to go. Not while he had been rummaging in his closet, looking for something appropriate to wear. Not when Harry had gently pushed away his unsteady hands and helped him dress. And not now as he walked about picking up and putting things down at random, trying to decide what he needed to take with him.

Finally, he seemed to just give up, picked up his bag and headed towards the door.

He stopped abruptly just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Harry got up from the bed and walked up behind him, giving him a hug, just holding him against him for a minute before gently turning him around by the shoulders.

Harry reached up with both hands to cradle Draco's face in his palms, and Draco’s eyes snapped up to finally meet his.

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't think he needed to.

He just leaned in and softly kissed Draco's lips, caressed his cheeks with his thumbs once, and then slid his hands away.

"Go; your mum needs you."

Draco reached up and traced Harry's cheek with one finger, from the corner of his eye down to his chin.

Then he nodded and turned to head out once again.

This time when he reached for the door, he didn't hesitate.

 

* * *

 

 

"Mr. Potter, I'm not sure how appropriate-"

"Is Pansy going? Are Blaise and Greg?"

McGonagall nodded. "I believe arrangements have been made for the Slytherin Eighth Years to attend."

"Then why can't I go? How is this any different? A classmate of mine just lost his father, and I would like to do him the courtesy of attending the funeral. If other students are going then I'll just go with them."

“We will." McGonagall looked at Hermione where she was standing behind Harry in the Headmistress's office, holding Ron's hand. "Ron and I would like to go as well."

McGonagall hesitated, and Harry could guess what her objection might be.

"Please, professor. It's not what you think. Draco and I haven't been enemies for a long time. In many ways, I think we never were."

 

* * *

 

As Harry sat in one of the carriages that had been arranged to carry all of the students who had wanted to attend, staring out of the window at the greenery as it slipped quietly by, he mused that McGonagall had probably acquiesced at his use of Draco's first name.

It would not have tripped so easy over his tongue if there had been any lingering hostilities between them.

She was also probably remembering the slew of Daily Prophet articles from not so long ago.

The scene in the Great Hall a fortnight before notwithstanding, the picture of the two of them in the Prophet had spoken of a comfortable companionship at the very least, and gave credence to the article because of the ease that the photograph had projected.

In the end, it mattered very little why she had agreed.

Harry would have come even without her permission, but it was better this way.

 

* * *

 

"He's here."

Draco blinked and turned his head to look at Pansy where she was tucked under his arm.

"Short, dark and broody. He's here." She gestured with her chin.

Draco turned the other way to look at where his mother was receiving well-wishers.

Potter was holding both her hands in both of his as he spoke to her.

He watched as his mother's posture softened.

All day she had been wearing the Malfoy mask like an icy mantle around her as she quietly went about making the arrangements to have his father's body moved to the family cemetery, dealing with the grave diggers, making arrangements for the reception, dealing with house elves and salespersons alike.

Not once had her mask broken.

Not when she had been met with embarrassed sympathy from those who understood the plight of being a Death Eater's widow in the current climate, and not when she was met by open hostility at having the temerity to want to arrange a proper funeral for a man who much of the Wizarding world still loathed.

And yet, as he watched now, she blinked rapidly as her hands clenched around Potter's.

He had that effect on people, with his absurd earnestness and open acceptance.

He offered his heart to others, and in doing so touched something in them, breaching walls that no force gentler than his honest sincerity could have moved.

Draco gave a soft sigh as something in his chest clenched.

He tore his eyes away and went back to staring at the mound of earth that hid his father's body.

He had been a flawed man. An ambitious man, and powerful at the height of his ambition, but in the end, merely a man.

He would be sorely missed.

 

* * *

 

"Why-" Draco cleared his throat to get rid of the hoarseness and tried again. "Why are you here, Potter?"

"What do you mean?"

"You hated him."

Potter sighed, then Draco felt a hand slip into his as Harry came to stand next to him with their shoulders pressed together. "I hated Voldemort. Your father just wasn't one of my favorite people. But in the end, it doesn't really matter what I thought of him. He was your father, and you loved him. Where else would I be?"

Draco blinked at the stinging in his eyes and looked away.

Now was not the time. Their friends were waiting.

Granger and Weasley to escort Potter back to Hogwarts, and Blaise and Pansy to accompany him to the Manor for the reception.

His mother had gone ahead to ensure that everything was in order and that she would be there before the first guest arrived.

He should be there with her.

He finally turned away to walk towards where their friends were waiting next to the carriages, and he looked back only once.

_‘Goodbye, father.’_

 

* * *

 

The last guest had finally departed, and the Manor was just settling back into its normal echoing silences.

Draco stood at the closed French windows in the downstairs parlor and stared out into the lashing rain as the evening became progressively darker.

He softly fingered the worn piece of parchment he had taken to caring around in his pocket. April showers and the world crying all of its tears indeed.

“Draco.”

Draco turned around and watched his mother enter the room.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

She smiled when Draco didn’t respond. “We can, if you wish. I have to admit I was startled at your choice, but it wasn’t so shocking once I had a chance to think about it.”

Draco blinked. “I ... I thought you would be ... more ...” The word _appalled_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it than to say it out loud. “... surprised?”

“I guess it’s not so surprising when you’re expecting it.” She looked at the slack astonishment on Draco’s face and reached out for his hand. “How could you have thought we didn’t know? A mother always knows, Draco. Not about Harry specifically, but rather your preferences.”

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“We talked about it once, your father and I.”

Draco blinked again, “And...?”

Narcissa smiled. “I’ll admit Lucius wasn’t best pleased, but he accepted it. He made his peace with it. He would have supported you, Draco. Whatever you chose. Whoever you chose.”

Her smile wavered as her lips trembled until she pinched them still. “I know he wasn’t the most expressive man in the world, but he loved you, Draco. Deeply, in his own way. He would have agreed to anything to see you happy.”

“How come-” Draco cleared his throat. “How come you never said anything? All those articles in the _Prophet_...”

Narcissa smiled. “I assumed you would come speak to me when you were ready.”

“I thought...”

Narcissa squeezed his fingers. “I would sacrifice a great deal for your happiness, Draco. With whoever you choose. Your father and I _did_ sacrifice much in order that you could be happy however you chose.” Her smile turned gentle. “You haven’t lost me, Draco. You never could. No matter what.”

Draco blinked away the stinging in his eyes and nodded, his throat too tight for words.

They stood there watching the rain as the night set in.

Finally, Narcissa stirred. “Come. Have something to eat. You haven’t eaten a bite all day.”

“I ... Yes. Okay.”

 

* * *

 

The morning felt rejuvenated. Bright. Like the rain had washed away the grime and the heaviness in the air, leaving behind a fresh new face.

Draco and his mother had spent the rest of the night reminiscing about the man that Lucius had been in happier times.

Narcissa had dabbed at wet eyes as often as they had laughed, and Draco had felt something in his chest loosen as they had sat there, remembering, cherishing.

He hadn’t gotten to bed until the early hours of the morning, but what little sleep he had gotten had been mercifully free of nightmares.

He sipped his tepid tea, oddly peaceful in his current numbness, even if it was edged by exhaustion pulling at his limbs, making him feel bowed down.

“He’s a very nice young man.”

Draco looked up at his mother. “I ...”

Narcissa smiled. “He cares about you. I could tell as much even in the limited time I had the chance to observe him with you.”

“I ...” Draco stopped and then tried again. “I think I care about him too.” His stomach clenched at admitting that out loud for the first time.

“Invite him to the Manor? I would greatly like to be introduced formally.”

“I don’t know if he’ll agree... I’ll ask.”

Narcissa smiled and nodded. “More tea?”

 

* * *

 

Draco picked up his pace as he walked towards the castle.

He wasn’t hurrying precisely.

Just – something in him wanted to find Potter and – well, he wasn’t sure and what exactly.

Just that he needed to see him.

His mother’s words from the night before and that morning swirled in his head as he walked.

_I would sacrifice a great deal for your happiness, Draco. With whoever you choose._

_He’s a very nice young man._

_Invite him to the Manor?_

So deep in thought was he that he almost walked right by the figure huddled on the front steps of the castle until a hand reached out and snagged his cloak as he swept past.

He stopped, abruptly confronted by green eyes looking up at him. “Potter.”

“Hi.” Potter gave him a small smile before he stood up and dusted off his trousers.

Potter stuffed his hands in his pockets as the silence stretched while they stood staring at each other.

Then Potter shrugged awkwardly. “I know we’re not ...” Another shrug. “But I just wanted to make sure you were okay...”

“I... I’m fine.”

Potter gave him a narrow-eyed look, and Draco gave him a small smile. “No, really, I’m okay. Thanks. And ... thank you for coming earlier. It meant a lot to mother and me.”

Potter ducked his head and shrugged again.

Draco hesitated, then took a small step forward.

Potter’s eyes snapped up to his, and Draco froze.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly, he just...

Then Potter closed the distance between them, enveloping him in a big bear hug, pulling him close, settling hands in familiar places, one around his waist holding him to Potter, and the other carding through his hair, pressing his forehead into Harry’s neck.

Draco held on to Potter’s waist and breathed in his familiar scent. Soap and sweat and sunshine.

The pressure that had been weighing down his shoulders seemed to lift as he exhaled.

The knot in his chest loosened a little more as he let himself accept the unconditional comfort being offered.

After half a minute, he reluctantly stepped back. “I… I should go. I mean-”

Potter took a step back as well and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, of course… Yeah.”

They stood there – one heartbeat, two heartbeat, three – before Draco broke eye contact and headed back up the stairs to the castle.

 

* * *

 

Draco took a deep breath before he pushed open the portrait hole of the Common Room.

He wasn’t sure what reception he expected, he wasn’t sure what reception he wanted, but he hoped nobody would make a fuss. He hated fuss.

Another bracing breath, and then he took that final step forward.

A ripple went through the room, but the people there barely paused to give him small smiles before going back to what they had been doing.

It was more than his entrance into the Common Room normally warranted, but it was far less than he had been dreading.

Blaise detached himself from his books and came over to clap him on the shoulder. “Dray. Welcome back.”

Draco just nodded as he scanned the room again, searching.

“Umm... they seem calm?”

It came out like a question because even he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say about not being mobbed or stared at when that was the thing he had been dreading.

Blaise grinned. “Pansy. Ever since we got your owl saying you were coming back today, she’s been tutoring everyone on how to act, what to do and when to do it.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah. ‘Woe betide anyone who crowds Draco at this critical time!’ ‘If he wants you fawning all over him and talking to him, he shall let you know!’ ‘I will personally pickle the bollocks of anyone...’ etcetera etcetera...”

Draco groaned. He could hear Pansy in Blaise’s near-perfect imitation.

He glanced around the room again, searching.

“Be grateful. She pulled out her most creative threats for you.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Dray!”

Draco winced a little at the shriek and braced himself, grunting as Pansy cannoned into him.

Even though he had braced himself, he fell back a step.

“How goes, hag? I haven’t been away that long.”

Pansy just clung to him harder until he gave in and squeezed her in return.

Then she pulled back and scanned his face through eyes carefully made up to hide their puffiness.

Draco touched her cheek gently in silent gratitude, and she nodded before she stepped back, allowing him into his own room.

“Narcissa?”

“She’s okay. She’s stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

She watched him in silence as he walked around her to drop his bag on the bed.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve only been gone a few days, Pans.”

“I know, but it felt like a lot longer. Are you okay?”

Draco shrugged as he put away the few things he had brought with himself. “I don’t know.”

“Oh Dray.”

 

* * *

 

Draco took a deep breath before he pushed open the door.

Another bracing breath before he took that final step into the room.

He glanced around the space, searching.

He bit his lip but decided there was nothing for it but to forge ahead. “Hello, Granger.”

She looked up from the complicated looking Runes mapping chart she had spread on the table in front of her.

Draco blinked in surprise when she smiled at him.

“Malfoy. I’m so sorry about your father. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Draco swallowed the lump that lodged itself in his throat in the face of unexpected sympathy.

“That’s fine, Granger. Thank you.”

She smiled again and waited.

Draco tried to get his thoughts to focus. There had been a reason he’d marched up to Granger.

“Where is he?”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise, but she didn’t pretend to misunderstand who he meant. “Not avoiding him any more then?”

Draco opened his mouth to explain, but the words got stuck on the way out. “I– ”

Granger made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Never mind. It’s not my place to ask.” She glanced at her wrist watch. “He’s probably in the owlry by now. He insists on spending time there after he’s done exhausting himself from flying.”

“Oh.”

Granger looked up at Draco’s expression.

“Hmmm. Maybe you’ll have more luck talking him out of hanging out amongst the bird droppings? I worry he’s obsessing over Hedwig again. She died protecting him, you know.” She made a face. “And of course he’s got a thing about people sacrificing themselves for him. As if he wouldn’t do the same for them in a heartbeat! As if he hasn’t done the same for them, a hundred times over…”

“I ... see.”

Granger blinked, then waved her hand at him in a shooing motion. “Never you mind me and my chattering on. That’s not the reason you’re here. Go on, then. It might take you some time yet to even find him if he’s not there.”

 

* * *

 

There was a particular kind of painful joy in watching something from afar and yearning with his whole heart to have, have, have.

It was a peculiar kind of torture that thrilled and made him ache in weird ways.

And he ached.

He ached when he glimpsed messy hair.

He ached when he heard laughter just as he was turning a corner to get away.

He ached when he caught green eyes staring at him.

Staring, staring, staring, but never approaching.

Draco sighed as he halfheartedly lobbed another pebble into the lake and watched the ripples spread.

He had decided not to go looking for Potter again his first day back.

The next day, following Granger’s instructions, he had almost gone in. He had been at the entrance of the owlry in fact. He had taken that last deep breath before breaching the entrance.

Yet, something had stopped him just as he had been about to take that final step into the room.

He wasn’t sure what it was, and the more time that passed, the less clear it was why he was hesitating.

It wasn’t because of his mother... She has been wonderfully, surprisingly supportive. More than anything he could have asked for.

He was ... hesitating. Because it all felt too much. Too big. Too real.

He could have this, if only he had the courage to reach out and take it.

But then again, courage had never been one of his strong suites.

 

* * *

 

“So... you coming down to the lake?”

Draco looked up at Blaise. “What’s happening at the lake?”

“Potter’s organized some kind of fair or carnival or extravaganza something. I’m expected to help at one of the booths.”

Draco’s eyebrows quirked. “And you’re going?”

Blaise gave him a twisted grin, half grimace. “Well you know what he’s like. He strong armed me into it ages ago, but I can skip if you want...”

“Let me guess. It’s a massive undertaking, involving three different years of students and hundreds more galleons. Who pays for Potter’s mad schemes is what I’d like to know.”

Blaise just shrugged so Draco glanced at Pansy. “You volunteering too, Pans?”

“No, but I _was_ thinking about attending. It could be fun...”

Draco sighed. “Okay.”

Blaise and Pansy exchanged a glance. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Why not? Not like I have anything better to do right now.”

Pansy squealed and jumped up to grab him around the waist. “Awesome! Let’s fucking get outta here!”

 

* * *

 

A harried Sixth Year ran up to them as soon as they arrived at the edge of the Hogwarts Lake. “Blaise! Finally! We need you at the dunk tank. Somebody needs to relieve Ernie before he gets hypothermia.”

Blaise grimaced, then grinned at them as he started walking backwards towards the far end of the lake. “Duty calls. See you later, you shits.”

The Sixth Year scribbled something on her clipboard, then looked up at Pansy speculatively. “Do you think you could take a shift at the Kissing Booth? If someone doesn’t relieve Ginny soon, she’s liable to start hexing people.”

Pansy laughed as she wove her arm through Draco’s. “Not a chance, darling! You’ll have to find someone else to deal with all those snot-nosed Third and Fourth Years.”

The girl sighed, then brightened as she spotted someone walking past. “Parvati! Hold up a minute!”

Draco looked around, a little dazed.

There were rows of lanterns strung along the edges of the Lake, paced by stalls under colorful tents every few feet. Music floated on the air, not overpowering, but still there in the background.

The most overwhelming sound was the din of cheerful _people_.

Students walked, ran, skipped and staggered from each stall to the next. The professors that dotted the throng measured their paces much more sedately for looking no less cheerful.

The closest booth had an enthusiastic pie eating competition taking place.

The elder Weasley was at the next stall over, cackling as he dealt with the swarms of students clamoring to buy Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The stall next to his was set up with some kind of maze where students were attempting to levitate small blocks into the right slots in order to complete the maze.

Next to that was a broad tent where house elves were distributing butter beers and spiced apple pies that he could smell even at this distance.

One booth over, a proud Hagrid seemed to be presiding over a petting zoo for a myriad of fluffy creatures.

Further along, there was a platform floating above a padded floor where two students were hitting each other with pillows, apparently with the sole objective of knocking the other off the platform, each being cheered on by a rowdy group of their friends.

There were shouts of “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” coming from a large group of boys gathered around a booth too far away for Draco to be able to see.

“ _When_ did he do all this?”

Pansy snorted as she gave his arm a tug to get him moving. “Potter went a little spare when you took away his extracurriculars.”

Draco glanced at her sharply, but she just gave him a smirk.

“What? You have any idea the amount of time that boy spent stalking you and daydreaming about you? Not to mention the amount of time you two spent joined at the hip?”

Draco opened his mouth to say he didn’t know what, but Pansy waved him off. “Upshot of all that angsting was that Granger got tired of watching him mope and lie about giving the world wounded looks and found him a new project to work on. And of course, Potter, being Potter, decided that everyone needed a piece of the action. Hence the madness...”

Draco followed the sweep of Pansy’s arm as he again scanned the swirl of color and sound unfurling along the edges of the lake, doubled in the sparkling water.

Pansy tugged on his arm again, speeding up with purpose. “Come on. I want to see how Blaise is doing at the dunk tank.”

“Dunk tank?”

“They set up a target. If you hit it dead center, it drops the person sitting in the booth into a vat of cold water, and you get to win a prize. Win, win!”

Draco shook his head a little as he allowed himself to be pulled along. Win, win indeed.

 

* * *

 

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Draco turned away from a sputtering and cursing Blaise to catch what was happening behind him.

Harry and Seamus appeared to be having a drinking competition, downing tankards of butter beer as fast as they could.

It was close, but Seamus slammed down his last tankard first to raucous cheering from everyone gathered around.

He cackled and did a victory dance before he grabbed the bucket lying on the table between him and Harry, tipping a cascade of water and ice chunks over Harry’s head.

Harry shook his head violently, sending droplets everywhere as the girls around him shrieked and moved away.

He grinned and smoothed his hair off his face with both hands, which incidentally pulled his very wet t-shit tight across his chest, clearly outlining his pecs, the ripple of abs down his torso and the shadow of his happy trail.

For no reason that Draco could think of he found himself flushed and feverish and panting just a little bit.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t that Draco was hiding from him.

Or avoiding him exactly.

It was just ... every time he thought about getting up to go look for him, everything inside Draco shrank back from seeing the look in his eyes.

The one full of emotion that he could drown in if he let himself.

Draco gulped and licked his dry lips.

Harry had showed up at breakfast the day after the carnival, fair, fete, whatever, looking disheveled and rumpled and half asleep, and it was as if they had been magnets drawn to each other.

Draco’s eyes had gone straight to his as he stood in the entrance of the Great Hall.

His eyes had gone straight to his, caught and held as he had watched emotions flicker through their green depths.

The immediate flair of delight whenever Harry spotted him. The softening into something tender as Harry no doubt imagined something painfully Gryffindorish like _cuddling_. The sharp focus when Harry actually took in Draco’s expression in return. The hesitation as he paused for a second look.

Harry had broken eye contact then, glancing around the Hall before his gaze returned to Draco.

Draco didn’t know what Harry had seen in his expression, but he had just given him a small smile and a nod before moving to sit with the younger Gryffindors at their table.

That in itself wasn’t that unusual.

All of Harry’s “projects” this year meant that he was often seen flitting about, sitting where he pleased in order to get up to whatever was the mischief of the day.

But... the year was nearly over, and most of the students had shifted their focus to year end exams.

It was unlikely there were any more projects Harry could fit in around the beginnings of exam panic and the mad revision cycles that were just starting.

Besides, Draco had been expecting almost a confrontation.

Well, not a confrontation exactly, but something.

Draco felt his cheeks flush a little as he sat there, getting lost in his own daydreaming without having touched his food.

 

* * *

 

Four days later, and Draco found himself again mentally trailing off every time he thought about... him.

This time over dinner.

Harry hadn’t bothered to turn up for the meal. Again.

Draco wondered how he was surviving the lack of food.

But then again, the berk forgot to eat as often as not.

Draco almost wished he would show up already – at least that way he wouldn’t find himself scanning the room involuntarily every few seconds for a familiar mop of messy hair or the flash of green eyes.

It was the tenderness which terrified him really.

The terrible, terrible tenderness in Harry’s eyes as he had helped undress Draco that one time in the Room of Requirement, the reverence with which he had touched each new inch of skin that was revealed.

Draco couldn’t ... he felt unequal to returning such strong emotion. He didn’t think he could. He didn’t think he had it in him.

He gulped as he sat there staring some more at the food he hadn’t touched.

Now, however, he could maybe admit that he craved it.

He missed that power of emotion that always seemed to be spilling out of Harry wherever he went. Harry carried it in his orbit as he moved around.

At least, _now_ he did.

It hadn’t always been like that.

Harry had had something almost furtive about him when he had first arrived at Hogwarts, like he was guarding a secret, or hoarding food that could be snatched away at any moment.

Draco had watched that spine straighten and Harry’s gait gain a relaxed confidence as he grew into his own over the years.

He had watched this year as Harry had moved around aimlessly in the beginning.

Still relaxed and lazily confident, but lacking his usual energetic purpose.

He had watched as that had changed little by little.

As he started smiling more, laughing more, sharing more of himself than before.

He had watched purpose return to his stride as he moved about the castle, forging intangible bonds between all and sundry with his stubborn single-mindedness that God damn it but winning the war would _mean_ something, that it _would_ change things.

If for no other reason than that Harry wouldn’t _let_ them be the same.

Draco sighed.

He missed him.

Damn it, he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

He missed the speccy git.

As unequal as he felt to the task of dealing with the weight of the petrifying emotions in Harry’s eyes, he still missed him.

Achingly.

Draco groaned, pushed away his plate and thumped his head down on the table.

“What do you think’s wrong with him this time?”

“Nothing getting laid won’t fix, darling.”

Draco groaned again at the snickering that erupted around him.

Some friends. Traitors, the lot of them.

He missed Harry.

Damn it all to hell, he missed him.

 

* * *

 

He was lying on his bed, staring at the canopy, when Pansy arrived to keep him company.

She pulled and shoved and poked and prodded at him until she was stationed at the head of the bed with his head in her lap, but she didn’t say anything.

Just started running her fingers gently through his hair as they both stared aimlessly out the window.

Something about the sensation of having someone run their fingers through his hair made his eyes fill involuntarily, and he turned to hide his face in her lap.

“It’s been weeks since you got back, and besides mechanically going through the motions of attending classes, all you’ve done is stare at the ceiling or out your room window.”

His voice sounded broken even to his own ears when he spoke. “Pans, I miss him.”

“Well of course you do, love. He was your father.”

The laugh that bubbled up got caught in his throat and mutated into a sob, and the hand in his hair paused.

“You complete and utter boob. You’re talking about Potter.”

There was a pause as Pansy waited for acknowledgement, but when Draco continued to lie there, not saying anything, she sighed and resumed stroking his hair.

“I’m guessing you haven’t taken a close look at that boy ever since you got back. He’s a mess. He was a mess for quite some time even before you left, but after we got back from the funeral, it was as if whatever small stubborn part of him had been holding on to any hope was finally snuffed out. He comes to the Great Hall, but he never eats. The carnival notwithstanding, he hasn’t been conspiring with the other students at all – something he made a point to do every single day. I haven’t heard him laugh properly or seen him smile genuinely or even smirk for weeks now. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks either. Everyone’s noticed, and nobody knows quite what to do.”

Pansy sighed. “Whenever the whole school started to feel dreary and miserable, and we started to remember that the patch of stone where we were standing might have been where one of our friends was murdered, it was Potter who shone a light into the corners and chased away the demons. His quirky brand of madness with a side order of determined cheerfulness always, always worked because you could see that he wasn’t just asking you to be cheerful or look for the little joys that were still left. You could tell that he believed, really believed with all his heart. And that made you want to believe too. That you wouldn’t drown in the misery of every soul destroying thing you had witnessed. Of every miserable wretched thing you had _done_. That maybe it was a good thing after all that you had survived when so many others had not.”

Draco lay very still, drinking in the words, not making a move in case Pansy stopped speaking.

“In a way, Potter was still the Savior. He was still saving people, every day. He just wasn’t doing it by picking up a sword against a great big ugly brute. He was saving us with a different kind of magic.” Pansy swallowed. “I’ve never sounded this much like a pussy-footed marshmallow before, but I kind of wanted to believe too, you know?”

She paused, and her hand in his hair stilled as she became lost in thought.

Draco’s voice was very quiet when he spoke. “You can believe you know, Pans. You can believe.”

Her fingers started working through the strands of his hair again.

“How do you believe when the person who was giving you hope, the person who was giving the whole fucking world hope, seems to have lost their own ability to believe? I mean it. It’s like whatever light was shining inside him, the spark that just would not let that boy bloody well quit, just upped and left. And you know what the worst part is?”

This time she waited for his response. “What?”

“You’re a boob because you don’t have to miss him at all. He’s there. He’s always been there. Sure, he looks more like an empty husk of a person than he does a lad, but he’s always been there, Dray. It’s you who chose to leave, and it’s you who’ll have to choose to come back. It’s always been your choice.”

They stayed sitting like that for hours, Draco with his face hidden, and Pansy running her fingers through his hair, each lost in their own thoughts.

Choices. It always came down to choices.

Wasn’t that what Potter had been trying to tell him since the beginning of the year? Albeit in his own dysfunctional way?

Wasn’t that what his mother had tried to tell him?

They had fought a war so that their choices could be given back to them. So that they could be who they were, as they wished to be.

It was time to take ownership of those choices, and to finally, finally _make_ some choices instead of running away.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s head snapped backwards as the fist connected and his lip split open.

“Malfoy! The fuck-?”

“You had that coming, Potter! A First Year – a firstie! – just told me that we make a cute couple! A firstie!!”

Harry snorted as he mopped at his lip with the back of his hand. “Did you make them cry?”

“Damn right I did. Imbeciles, all of them!”

Hermione finally snapped out of the dazed astonishment such behavior had inspired. “Malfoy! How dare you?! You can’t blame Harry for something someone else did! And violence is never the answer! And making First Years cry!” She was almost sputtering in her indignation. “There is so much wrong with your behavior, I don’t know where to start!!”

Harry laughed softly as he took Malfoy’s handkerchief off him and leaned against him while trying to clean up blood spatters with limited success.

Draco was busy glaring at Hermione.

“For your information, _we_ are not a couple. The nerve of that firstie to presume to approach his superiors and with faulty information at that! They’ve had almost a year here; they should know better by now.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she tried to decide which part of that to pick on first.

Then they flicked towards Harry. He could see her protective instincts starting to assert themselves and decided to intervene before she got properly mad.

“Leave it, ‘Mione. This is kind of how it is between us.”

She was instantly frowning. “I don’t care how it is between you. You get hurt enough as it is, Har. This just isn’t acceptable behavior.”

“’Mione. How many times do you think I’ve bloodied Malfoy just this year? I have some of this coming to me, and when it’s not cool, I’m the first one to do something about it. Trust me to know the difference.”

Hermione didn’t stop frowning, but she took another look at the two of them, standing together. Malfoy with his arms crossed and chin tilted upwards, but not dislodging Harry where he was leaning against his shoulder.

She opened her mouth to comment, then sighed gustily and threw her hands up as she walked away. “Boys!”

Harry sighed too and leaned harder into Draco’s side as they watched her walk away. “Hi to you too by the way.”

Draco just snorted.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco watched askance out of the corner of his eye as Potter tongued at his lip and dabbed at it ineffectually yet again.

He huffed and dropped his arms. “Here, let me see.”

Avoiding the green stare, he reached up, gentling clasping Potter’s chin and turning his face this way and that to assess the damage.

Pulling out his wand, he murmured a soft spell under his breath and watched the cut lip seal itself.

Potter reached up and softly touched the back of the hand that was holding his face. “Thanks.”

“Owlry?”

“Room of Requirement.”

 

* * *

 

 

They stood there in silence, watching each other for a minute.

Then Harry smiled and moved forward with purpose. He pushed Draco into the wingback chair he was standing in front of.

Draco’s eyes widened when Harry pulled out his wand, but he didn’t move or protest.

Harry transfigured the wingback chair such that the front half was the length of a chaise lounge so Draco still had something to lean on as his legs stretched out in front of him.

Tranfiguration spells tended to not work as well for him outside of the Room of Requirement, and he suspected that the magic of the Room was helping him get what he wanted.

Harry sighed, satisfied with the chair, dropped his want next to it, and simply climbed into the chair with Draco, situating himself with his back to Draco’s chest, pulling Draco’s arms around him and turning his head until his forehead rested against the side of Draco’s neck.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell.

Citrus and lavender and warmth.

It felt like coming home.

He nearly sobbed.

He had thought he’d lost this. Nearly resigned himself to the idea that maybe this was another one of those things he wouldn’t be allowed to have.

He could feel the heaviness in his arms and legs pulling at him.

He was just so tired.

It had literally been days since he had stopped moving.

He was weary and the exhaustion of having to get up and move, move, move every day had him strung out tighter than piano wire.

He could feel all the knots in his back coming undone as Draco’s warmth soaked into him, filling up all the broken corners and cracks, and Harry felt like he could finally, finally relax.

That if he let himself fall, there would be someone there to catch him, to cushion his fall.

He was home.

He didn’t know when he had started thinking about Draco as home, but… He was here, and he was letting Harry lean on him. That’s all that really counted.

“Hi.”

Harry felt Draco take a deep breath in response, Harry’s form on his chest rising with him as he inhaled, and involuntarily, Harry tightened his hold on Draco.

“Potter, everything I said in the Great Hall that day...”

“Hush. I know...”

“I still... I – I still need you to know I didn’t mean any of that... that I’m... I’m sorry I said it in the first place.”

Harry blinked his eyes open, then turned so Draco could see his face.

His touch was soft as he caressed Draco’s cheek, traced the outline of his lips. “Thank you.”

Draco swallowed and ducked his head.

“I couldn’t ask you to choose. She’s your mum – and with your dad gone, I just ... I don’t know. _Is_ there reason to hope?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Potter smiled and closed his eyes again, settling his head in the crook of Draco’s shoulder.

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

He’d fallen asleep.

The stupid berk had fallen asleep between one breath and the next.

Draco had felt it when his shoulders slackened, his breathing evened out, and he somehow grew warmer still in Draco’s embrace.

They had been sitting there for barely five minutes.

Draco shifted a little until he found a more comfortable spot, and wrapped his arms more completely around Potter.

Potter made a soft breathy sound under his breath when Draco moved – a soft _Annhh_ that clutched at Draco’s chest a little – before he settled back into stillness, his messy locks teasing Draco’s cheek.

Draco wondered when the last time was that Potter had gotten any sleep.

He wondered what it really meant that Harry would fall asleep so fast and so completely as soon as he stopped moving. He had to have been exhausted – beyond exhaustion even.

Gently, carefully, Draco hugged Potter to himself, something inside him feeling suddenly, fiercely protective of Harry.

 

* * *

 

 

_Potter,_

_Mother keeps harassing me about whether you’ve responded to her invitation to tea._

_Hence, this is me formally requesting the pleasure of your company at tea at a time yet to be determined. I must warn you that the tea shall be at Malfoy Manor, should you choose to accept the invitation._

_Regards,_

_Draco Malfoy_

 

* * *

 

 

Harry smiled as he fingered the parchment in his hand.

The formal language practically screamed Draco’s discomfort. He probably hadn’t been able to figure out how to ask Harry in person and so was resorting to letter writing.

Harry thought about it for half a second and then made a decision.

This time, no one was going to stop him from going to Malfoy Manor. Not to mention, he didn’t have to worry about ruining any big family Christmas dinners with his insistence that he wanted to visit his sort-of definitely boyfriend’s mother.

With a grin, he reached for a clean piece of parchment to pen his response.

 

* * *

 

 

_Potter,_

_If I find out you’ve stolen my Slytherin scarf again, there shall be consequences._

_~Draco Malfoy_

 

* * *

 

 

“Mmmmm, no moving.”

Draco deliberately huffed as Harry pinned him more firmly and returned his ear to where it had been pressed to Draco’s chest before Draco’d stretched to get a book out of his bag.

“Potter. We’re meant to be revising. Not to mention this reading position is terrible for my posture.”

Harry smiled as he listened to the rumble of Draco’s voice in his chest as a counter-point to his heartbeat.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

Draco huffed again when Harry didn’t respond, and propped his notebook against the back of Harry’s head to continue reading as he had been since Harry had prodded him into this prone position where Harry could press his ear to his chest.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

“Potter, I need to get my-”

“Shhh… I’m listening.”

“To what?!”

“Your heartbeat.”

There was a pause. Then, Draco very deliberately turned the page of his notebook without saying anything, but he didn’t move to get whatever he had wanted either.

Harry closed his eyes. He was learning the cadences of Draco’s heart. The quick _rub-a-dub-dub_ at Harry’s words just now. The steady _thump-dub-thump-dub-thump-dub_ when Draco’s heartbeat settled as he went back to revising. The softer, slower _lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub_ of Draco falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

_Dear blondie, When we kiss... Magic happens! That's how I know magic is real ;)  -H._

 

* * *

 

 

Draco hummed deep in his throat as he carded his fingers through soft obsidian hair.

“You do know that if we do this, there are going to be rules.”

“Rules?”

“Rules.”

“Knowing my history with rules, sure you want to risk it?”

“ _Rules,_ Potter, _or else_.”

Harry laughed softly under his breath as he leaned forward, “I can live with rules.”

The last thing Draco saw as their lips touched was the warmth in green, green eyes as they fell shut.

 

* * *

 

___Potter,_

_You’re a dork._

_~Draco._

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was almost as excited as Pansy had to be.

He hurried down to the Quidditch pitch and made a beeline for the broom shed where he knew Pansy would be hiding while she sunned the crystal for its requisite four hours a day.

Of course, _she_ was excited because the Geemian Scrying Crystal was said to be one of the most powerful artefacts that one could use in the study of Divination.

Draco couldn't give a damn about whether it could tell him his future or not.

He was content to discover that as it unfolded.

But he was itching to see it regardless.

Called a crystal for tradition's sake, it was more a sculpture - one of the rarer artefacts in the Magical world and considered one of the most beautiful.

Rare not because there was such limited demand for it, because honestly, many would have liked one just for its beauty, but rather, rare because of how difficult it was to create one, with its lattice of delicate glass, teased into hair thin strands that were arranged to encase gems in a  complicated, very _specific_ pattern.

Almost a work of art in and of itself, the addition of exquisitely cut diamonds and emeralds made it exorbitant.

He still had no idea how Pansy had guilted her parents into buying her one. It was worth a small fortune and had a waiting list a mile long.

As it was, he and Pansy had been waiting a month for it to arrive.

Draco rounded the corner and squinted as reflected sunlight glinted in his eyes.

"Draco! Come see! It's FUCKING GORGEOUS!"

Draco grinned and drew closer, looking down at the delicate glass that seemed to pulse with living energy, light scattering from it in all directions.

"It _is_ glorious."

Pansy smirked in satisfaction. "I know. You won't believe the trouble I had to go through to get one this perfect either."

Draco returned the smirk with one of his own. "Oh, I believe you."

He looked at the crystal again, drawn to how the glass strands seemed to flow like waves of light as they bent and looped back on themselves in endless continuity. "Let me hold it?"

Pansy hesitated.

"Come on. I'll be careful, promise."

She bit her lip, then nodded, moving towards him.

Draco gently cupped his hands under hers, waiting for her to slide hers away, their heads close together as they watched the glow that emanated from the gems.

Just as Pansy started to slide her hands away, something struck Draco in the middle of his back.

Hard.

He cried out as he lurched forward, instinctively trying to shield the crystal by caging his hands around it.

Pansy gasped as he bowled her over.

Her hands trapped between his, neither willing to risk the crystal by letting go, she landed on her back with Draco sprawled on top of her.

Pansy groaned.

"Damn. Pans, you okay?"

"I will be once you get the fuck off me."

Draco grimaced, then got his knees under him so that he was straddling her rather than resting all his weight on her.

Just then someone sauntered around the corner of the shed, holding a broom. "Hey, you see a quaffle that-"

As Draco raised his head, Macmillan's voice died when he realized who he was addressing. "Holy fuck! Malfoy? And _Parkinson_? Harry is going to kill you when he finds out. Shit!"

He spun on his heal and disappeared back around the corner, the quaffle forgotten.

"Fuck!" Draco sat up, carefully releasing Pansy's hands, making sure she had the crystal and was in no danger of dropping it.

Then he got to his feet and helped her up.

"Come on, hand me the box. We have to stop that shit before he gets to Potter."

Draco picked up the safe box the crystal had arrived in and held it for Pansy as she carefully replaced it in its protective packing.

He gulped at the thought of Macmillan carrying this little tit bit to Potter.

"Where is he?"

"Common Room."

His guts twisted as a litany of cursing started in his head.

Any way he explained this, it wouldn't look good.

As the box clicked shut and the protective spells on it activated, Pansy quickly shoved it into her satchel and grabbed Draco's arm. "Let's go!"

 

* * *

 

 

His sides were burning by the time they reached the Eighth Year Common Room portrait.

As Pansy gasped out the password and the door swung ajar a little way, he stopped her before she could swing it open completely.

They'd headed for the Common Room at a dead-run, but he could hear Macmillan's irritating whine already and knew it hadn't been enough.

"But Harry, I'm telling you what I _saw_."

"And I'm telling you it wasn't him."

Draco and Pansy glanced at each other, startled.

Then they pushed the portrait hole open just enough to allow them to peek inside.

Potter was sitting at his usual table, near the fire, but not right next to it, seated cross-legged on the floor, his papers and texts spread out around him in his customary haphazard manner.

He was writing calmly, not paying attention to anything but the scroll in front of him while Macmillan knelt opposite him, leaning forward on the table, wringing his hands.

"Harry, you _have_ to believe me! It was Malfoy getting off with Parkinson." Draco winced as Potter's quill hand jerked. "I saw them behind the broom shed on the Quidditch pitch!"

Potter sighed and reached for a blotting paper without once looking at Macmillan.

"Wasn't him."

He raised his hand when Macmillan opened his mouth to protest again.

"I have it on very good authority that Malfoy is _gay_. Much like myself. So you'll forgive me if I'm skeptical of anything that involves him _getting off_ with _Parkinson_."

Then Potter looked up at the far wall, a thoughtful gleam in his eye. "Now Zabini... Oh, the possibilities."

Draco's jaw clenched even as he heard Pansy grinding her teeth next to him.

Then Potter shook his head and picked up his quill again. "But Parkinson - don't believe it."

The other students in the Common Room pretending they weren't devouring every single word of this conversation all exchanged looks.

Macmillan wrung his hands again, looking helpless.

Draco was just about to step into the room when Boot spoke up. "Harry, mate, I hear you, but still... if Ernie says he saw them, you at least have to consider it. I mean... it's _Malfoy_."

"Exactly! He'd never."

Macmillan growled in frustration. "Come on, Harry! I know he's gay and all but-"

"Not what I meant." For the first time, there was a bit of steel in Potter's voice though he still hadn't bothered to look up. "Sure, he's gay. But even if you'd said he was getting off with Zabini, I wouldn't believe you _because_ it's Malfoy. He would never."

Draco gulped, his heart pounding, warmth settling in his chest, his cheeks pink.

Pansy reached out and squeezed his hand.

Boot and Macmillan exchanged a look. "Harry, mate, that's-"

Potter interrupted with a noisy sigh. "Look. I get it. You don't trust him. He's made some really shit choices over the years. He was part of the Shit Eaters club. Whatever. I've heard it all before. But you have to admit, Malfoy's always, _always_ been honorable - even when he gave his loyalty to things I really rather he didn't. So what you _think_ you saw aside, _I_ think I'll wait for Malfoy's version of things, thanks."

Macmillan threw his hands up. "Harry! Pansy's a self-serving hag and Malfoy-"

For the first time Potter looked Macmillan straight in the eye, who choked on his own spit.

"Yes?" As soft as Harry's voice was, there was no mistaking the menace in it.

Macmillan gulped twice before he managed to find his voice.

Even then it came out two octaves higher than usual when Harry continued to stare at him with his steady gaze.

"Harry, all I'm saying - really - I-I mean... You just trust too easily! That's what I mean!"

"You should be glad I trust as easily as I do." His eyes narrowed and suddenly there were the flames of a burning anger dancing in them.

Macmillan jumped back involuntarily and the rest of the gossiping students hushed.

"Because _honestly_ , I'm _trusting_ that you're just trying to be a good friend rather than hexing you as was my first impulse. You should be ashamed, spreading that shit around."

Macmillan gulped, then quickly scrambled to his feet, eyeing Potter nervously. "Right. I- I'll just go then. Umm-" He turned and rushed up the dorm stairs.

Potter turned that burning gaze on the rest of the room. "Any one got anything else to add?"

Everywhere he turned, people dropped their eyes, going back to working, or playing chess or gossiping or swapping Chocolate Frog cards.

The silence dropped away into the quiet murmur that was normal for the Common Room.

Draco took a deep breath, in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

He squeezed Pansy's hand before dropping it.

Then he swung the portrait hole open the rest of the way and marched over to where Potter was sitting, watching as he looked up and that damnable smile of his whenever he saw Draco lit up his eyes and tugged his lips upwards.

"He-" He interrupted himself on a breath as Draco straddled his lap.

He blinked then looked up at Draco, his smile turning shy. "What-?"

This time Draco interrupted, sealing Potter's lips with his own, cradling his face in his hands, the gossiping public watching them be damned.

Potter - no, _Harry_ \- he had earned the right to be called that - Harry trusted him.

More than that, he trusted him without question.

He'd known Macmillan, even Boot as long as he'd known Draco, except he'd been on much better relations with them for much, much longer.

He'd still refused to believe that Draco would betray him.

Refused to believe it _point blank_.

He thought Draco was _honorable_.

What's more, he wasn't willing to let anyone say otherwise.

Harry didn't know it yet, but there wasn't much Draco would refuse him for that trust.

He'd granted more to others for far less in fact, but no one had earned the right to his regard quite as thoroughly as Potter had. As _Harry_ had.

Coming up for air, he rested his forehead against Harry's, softly caressing cheeks with his thumbs as Harry blinked back at him with slightly dazed eyes.

“Hi.”

Draco smiled even as he rolled his eyes. “Hello to you too… Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widened a little even as light started gathering in their depths.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. Three-

Then Harry grinned, tightened his hold on Draco's robes at his flanks and arched upwards to plant an open-mouthed kiss on Draco's lips.

"What brought this on?" He pulled Draco closer by yanking slightly at his robes. "Not that I disapprove, mind. But what happened to the rules? What happened to _there will be no public displays of affection, Potter - of ANY kind. Ever!_?"

Draco's lips quirked at this passing-fair imitation. "A bloke can change his mind, can't he?"

Harry laughed softly, wrapping his arms loosely around Draco's waist. "Yes. Yes, he can."

Then he arched up for another kiss, and Draco met him gladly.

 

* * *

 

_Dear Harry,_

_Imagine me hugging you. Picnic lunch today?_

_x_

_~D._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a few things in there I'm the teeniest bit dissatisfied with, so I dunno.. I might go back and edit some things... But then again ... I might not ...... Regardless.... 
> 
> Wooooooooooooooooooooooot! It's finally done! **Happy dance!**:D
> 
> I love all you wonderful, wonderful people who've stuck with this one for ages now... Thank you for all your love and patience and kind words... They are what kept me from completely abandoning this piece.. even thought it was a WIP for so long... LOVE HUGS AND COOKIES! MUAH!

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm... This started as a short little drabble thing ... I swear! And then it just kind of ... got away from me... 
> 
> Update: Sooo... I combined some chapters, got rid of some things, and added some more.. We're almost at the end now. I think that chapter nine is going to be the last one... It might end up being slightly longish if I want to do justice to our boys, but I don't think I want to break it up into two .. Somehow the last few things belong together.. After all, it's almost the end of Eighth Year, and we're almost at the end of our story... 
> 
> Update: It's done! :D :D :D  
> It turned out sweeter than I had first imagined it ... But hey, the boys wanted to head down this road... I was just along for the ride ;)
> 
> Comment if you've enjoyed reading this :) :)


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